Category Archives: poetry

Not Getting Wet

It’s raining but I’m not getting wet.
Is this my first or my last cigarette?
Were I to count back the moments to when we met,
it would be over a hundred, I bet.

One for when, in the lake, we were bare.
Another: the shower we’d sneakily share.
A hard one’s the tears of your pregnancy scare.
And the time when rain settled in your hair.

But now it’s raining and I’m not wet.
I just lit my first cigarette.
You haven’t answered my messages yet,
and you’re with him in a place I can’t get.

Is he the deep pool of calm that I know you seek,
the ticket to waves of appearance so sleek?
Masculinity pours out to cover the weak,
and you awash in compliance, so meek.

It’s raining all day; I can’t get wet.
I swear this fag’s had her last cigarette.
Had it been up to me I’d never have let
you in, and I’d have no regret.


Meet me, M’sippi

Do you meet me, M’sippi, where I am?
Cause’ I’m not one to have visions,
the voices that I hear say nothin grand.
So I wait for the depths of you to flow
just like anointed oil to my mind.

I can’t find ya, M’sippi, in the bend.
But I hope that in your broadness,
you’ll widen out and find me in the end.
And then the things I do will make me whole,
the God I love will be the God that stays.

Just swallow me, M’sippi, flood today.
Before I get a boat, and it’s too late.