They Will Sew the Blue Sail

From Width of a Witch | CA Conrad


                                the pearl starts over

                                a new grain of sand

                                we are going to find

                                in the planet of blue

                                a freshly written eviction note

                                gone fishing for better tenants

                                a sash hanging off the horse

                        told the story            without you

        the kind of children we deserve who rob us in our sleep

                                              we never need to believe in anything again

                                they take our car and money and head for the beach


        they requested a happier poem

        the distinct sound of a backstab

                                up in the stomach getting a fix on the signal

                                      leave vomit on the

                                    seat and tell them we

                                are not sorry for any of it

                            poke surrounding haystack in

                          search of a                  slow song

                        excess is haunted by our poverty of benevolence

                                      but we grab a broader patch of shoulder

                                                   corrupt the smallest eyes in the

                                                                    freshly printed poem


                                          judged by the way we fall in

                                  love in the bathroom in sweating out the misery

                                                     entering the fine blades in harmony

                                              chopping all of our best to distribute over

                                        the whole goddamned rotted beating muscle

                                                     even when we have

                                                     forgotten where we

                                                   are love            finds us

                                                           just sticks us

                                                           sobbing with

          shame inside a glorious steaming pile of the musk

    saying no doesn’t matter you can’t say no for long


                                                                              we win from time to time

                                           abandoned above adaptable positions of the losing

                  we risk everything in thinking we can navigate maverick of the green

                                                                                        carry a bottle of wine into

                                                                                         the pumpkin patch looking

                                                                                            for a new         way to

                                                                                             angle the old songs

                                                                                              sell me a ticket to

                                                                                              your dance please

                                                                     I believe in the strength of poetry

                                                                         a little stone in the moth helps

                                                                                  balance her on my breath