Two Poems by Dan Lasher
April 13, 2011 § 1 Comment
In a lust of licorice—
suddenly my sinus
cavity is open, and I can breathe,
but only suddenly.
Then I need more.
I don’t need water or sugar—
because the image that you
have painted inside my skull,
on the bone of it—
on the bone of it—can not
be removed by 80 proof whisky,
no for that I need, turpentine.
Roses by Dan Lasher
Dead dog sister melancholy wise up. Winter set in cool breeze through my hair against my skin. Your way is not enough and summer time charm has no time to care. Forgetting the scenes on your eye lids and laughing at the madness on the screen, shrill, calm, cool, disdain. The captain is green and the crew is mutiny. The night time fearless, while mourning lapping against a hallowed haul. Blood is drawn, and the young man dead in the bath, overdosed, his girl still out there somewhere.
Robins cry, sparrows sing, so close to land, I think, I can taste it, but I can’t see it. Nereid, sweet nymph, mother of helpful seas, help me.
We got in before sunrise, the mountain was burning and Jamie is dead.
Her tragic suicide has left her homeless, tears on her pillow, still it burns. Remembered only as a child, in her father’s eyes. In her own eyes, her young ones, a woman.
I wish you could come home, your bed is still made and your place at the table set, lavender lining the flower bed outside your window, roses on your bower, and lace on your bed sheets, this time I would tell you.