Wrapping green around a wooden house
a warping pool of there, of home
She glares up at me with hollow cheeks
full of beauty and earth
were were filled and are now empty
cavities left bare
She haunts me, is always behind me
her voice is fog over rippled water, cool and dark as glass
her cadences are the roots of trees, are veins under bark
are the ejaculations of leaves, spouting from solid limbs
She speaks for my organs, my blood and bile
bringing all my liquids to the surface, pooling under my skin
I wish I could breathe like her
She asked me to write a poem

Love it when they sink to their knees in front of me
                on the jagged pavement in pools of streetwater
They drown
                Love is when they sink to the bottom

She painted it in black on the wall of our apartment. Full of beauty and earth. 
emptied of outside, of pressure
I wish she would descend
like a cloud, like vapour
full of massacre and play

Copyright © a contemplation (Emily Jones) 2013. All rights reserved.