Paul Perry

A canadian artist from the Netherlands.


Love is a submarine, sinking below the surface
of thought, a sharp blade, a monstrous moon all
windows and no teeth.
Love is a bird's beak, two sharp knives silently
shearing two young lambs, tender and cold
fingers thickening to ice.

A million miles from here, reaching out
all thawing and nerves, love lives in
a throbbing paradise.
Inside my chest, land locked, a hungry cat
scratches out my insides.

Lie down with me here
I will listen
Lie down with me here
you will lie

Your tongue is concentric, wet, running
amuck of your mouth, flooding an already swollen
river of black rain.
Your body is a living cross.
While you sleep, your breathing sounds
like the squeal of brakes.

Your body is a scarecrow of bleach bottles tied
Your short hair is an electrical train set, the scene of
many a childhood accident. Your laugh reminds
me of a woman crying in the rain.
I wear clothes that smell like you
I am a tenant in your arms.

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