 

 She thinks I’m a still water painting
Yes, I’ve been framed but she believes
Hanging me is for my own good
She says she repeatedly drowns
In the pink of blue
Ringlets that never reach the shore
Sometimes my misshapen identity dreams
Through the landscaped loneliness —
Discovers her on the edge of a rock
Finding beauty in the inability to flow 
Inside a murderous tiki bar
The evening’s inversed math
Examples try and act positive 
A scientific hooker recommends her milk
And cookie flavored cocktail debating if
Shop till you drop has a sexual innuendo
We circle the variables and show our work
Finally she lets me pet her biological clock
The alarm screams in the solved dawn
Drugs of light
Color the cold
Chocolates and glass
Soften my soul
Only the unfed parks 
Harden during Christmas
No longer marooned upon
My grandmother’s pitted bread
I stand a man spawned of Jewish milk
Refusing to varnish the biblical handcuffs
That link us through amorous tribes
When for centuries, unreported rape 
Blended the blood of our warring mythologies
Tonight a traffic light disfigured
The lawless rhythm of our affection
Saint Nick’s judgment cheered through me
His laughter teaching Buddhism 
And then I realized the luck in having
You alone as my punishment and toy 
 
                                       Permanency is dying
 
                                    Within our body’s clock
 
 
                            She lifted her lean stocked glass
 
                                 To the heartbroken horizon
 
                          So bloodshot and bruised and said
 
                                That’s why it’s best to get out
 
                                     With as much as you can
 
                           Muster onto the ever present page
 
 
                   We smoked and looked into the possibility
 
                    Of parole beyond our mistaken identities
 
                             Like a continuous second chance
 
                           Love’s diamond color was playfully
 
                         Imprisoned in the glass that believed
 
 
                   She lip synced someday I’ll be your mother
 
                  Unaware I was already poetically murdering
 
               Our childlike friendship’s delicious crime spree
 
 
      To this day I remember her synagogue sounding ecstasy
 
                        Panting in the ear of the black eyed sun
Garth Pavell’s poems recently appeared in Canary, THIS Literary Magazine, SN Review and The Battered Suitcase. He works for a nonprofit in New York City. 
Garth's songs can be heard at: MySpace
ART FEATURE: 
An Introduction 
to Deltiology
ISSUE:
W I N T E R
2011-2012
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