My Kind of Poetry
by Katrina K Guarascio
Katrina K Guarascio
Katrina K Guarascio currently resides in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she teaches English, Poetry, and Journalism. Along with various literary magazine and ezine publications, she is the author of two chapbooks and two book length publications, A Scattering of Imperfections and most recently, They don't make memories like that anymore...
Your kind of poetry arrived unexpected at my door
worn from the highway,
trailing wet footprints across my Persian rug.
Road ridden poetry,
put away wet verse
you scribed over my living room walls
as they watched us pulse.
I scrawled my kind of poetry all over your arms and chest,
dripping with metaphors you are free to interpret,
you are free to wash away.
two o'clock in the morning poetry.
Dress you up in it so I can watch you take it off.
You wrote your kind of poetry all over my red sheets,
careless phrases spat inconsequentially toward my torso
too quickly for me to catch.
pull me close in the middle of the night poetry.
Wrap me up in it so you can unravel it.
I leave my kind of poetry unreadable on Sunday morning's pages
trivial lines and selfish verse
residing in the cracks around your eyes.
Soaked in solitude poetry,
a secret translation,
of the way I remember the corners of your lips,
with the intent to haunt long after you leave my front porch.
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