Lightning Bolts In Their Arms

by Louisa Casanave

He was a heroin addict. She was a heroin addict. They shook, they wanted more, they soared; they soared. He was a southern wind blowing sugar on her. She was a telepath, screaming things with smiles. He was a crab apple that when she walked by she just had to pick up. And she squeezed her palms until her arms swallowed. She would beat at the river in her. He was a tree with golden red meat, a pale green heart and hand like leaves. He sung when he breathed; it stung when they met; they dissolved and they sweat; she glowed when he pleased. They were iron mail made out of each other. She had five living hearts that beat all around him. He had fifteen arms and they all covered her. They became tangled: “Whose foot is mine?” They stood on their heads and roots grew from their minds.


*Louisa's blog: http://louisapoetry.blogspot.com/