a poem a day for a year #89

by Amy Turn Sharp


You need to read poetry and novels and put your fingers in you lover's mouth at least once a week. If you don't have a lover you need to go find one. It's quite simple to find someone to hold once you know the secrets. Touch books. Eat paper. Stop in the street and feel your arms move towards the sky when you think about sentences so lovely that they float off the page and live forever in your brain. Prison tattoo burning kind of recollections stop you like a stone circle. Collect stories and give them away. Walk right up to someone and ask them to run away with you. Hold out your hand. Wave. Memorize poetry and love yourself. Tell a perfect stranger about your favorite story. Talk to each other. We are only made of words. Our bright beating sex is made from narrative. Desire is a language we invented. It pairs so well with flesh. Look, there goes another one. A bright shining story of love. Wave. Push up against each other. We are not real. We are only stories that the wind can tear apart. Don't die. Become a myth.