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Permanent Marker (Slam Poetry)
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2017 There are so many ways
your words make it into my blood.
1. Melting into my skin
from absentminded pen marks.
I would take the pen away
but then I would be out of
these little autographs I want to keep.
2. Sometimes intended pen marks.
When I look at them
I don’t think I can tell them apart
from the accidents.
They come from
a laughing game of hide-and-seek
where you always find my hand
and I roll my eyes
as you leave yet another
little ink scar.
3. Something you need to
remind yourself of.
Paperwork.
Medicine.
Meetings.
I am a human pile
of things you might forget.
I am not always so good at it
but for some reason
you keep dropping more items in the basket.
4. When I catch myself talking like you.
These little
words a few people laugh at
are stuck in my head,
tell me
I’ve spent too much
too little time here.
5. Pieces of paper you slip under my door
that remind me
how well you speak my language.
Sometimes I think
I met you just for the words.
6. The last thing you say
before you fall asleep.
In daylight I’m not sure why
it’s in some corner of my brain
labeled more important.
I didn’t think sleep did much for my memory
before I started waking up with you.
7. When your fingers drag
along my arm
or my face
or my sides.
The lightest touch
leaves an indent
I’m never sure I can erase
even if I wanted to.
8. Sometimes we speak
in permanent marker.
Say things we can’t take back.
We write our way into each other’s hearts
with every breath we take.
