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Alex Lemon

Even In Rest

           after "L'acharnement"

a painting by Martin Bureau



This movement is stillness. Resting,
we travel through our pasts.

The world has ignited in confusion,
withered remains, backs hunched in breath.

We sit, trying to ignore a TV that dangles
from clouds, heaven's umbilical cord.

Turn your cheek to motion. Take off your hat,
let me feel the bones. I want to know your face.

The blur of feet, bad reception, everything
a struggle not to unbutton your coat.

You started two breaths ahead,
our bodies will race forever.




It's Called Living Well

What would you say if I exhaled in your mouth?
Watched your cheeks expand like balloons?

Can you spit with closed eyes?
Accept small gifts?

Would you force me to blow
in your ears, the last thing you heard

deceit? Maybe you would be lulled

by the sound of rain, pulled close
by a loop of belt. Senseless hammer,

your door forever knocks. Leaving
whispers below your porch

My gift of lies, collapsed lungs.
The fear of simple math

I watch as you use the window
as a mirror, slipping away from clothes.

The ringing phone, birds sing sleepily
as your layers fly. Thrown to sinking

closets where absence is the missing
doorknob, the winking light.

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