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Napowrimo 2011: 7 days late is better than never

8 November 2011

I was going to participate in Napowrimo in November (in place of Nanowrimo–I’m not ready to write a novel yet), but I forgot to start on November 1st! Do not despair, I have a plan. I will still participate, on a slightly altered schedule: I will write a poem a day from November 7 – December 6. That’s thirty days, which is the right number.

Here are the first two, visible to all. Most of these thirty poems will be password-protected, so message me if you want the password. I’m not mean, I will give it to you if you ask.

First poem

I want to know, once more,
how it feels
to be peeled
and eaten whole, time after time

Bite marks on my forearms
reveal that I’ve tried this before
but you don’t notice.

To you I am fresh meat,
unstained blood
you want to smear on your lips
and chin like juice
from a mango in August heat.

I want to be your mango,
I want you to slurp
and suck at my flesh
and feel satisfied,

Second poem

We stood at the window with no clothes on and looked out. It was dusk. The grey street below us teemed with briefcases and the people carrying them. The sun bent on the windows across from us so the glass appeared golden and refracted. We were either shielded by the refracted light or completely on view for the people to see, if they looked up. Perhaps a couple stood in the window opposite, where the sun was hitting. Perhaps they were watching us, and blushing at their secret peep show. Perhaps they were naked, too.

It’s funny how bold we become when we can’t see our audience. The window across from us could be crammed with office workers elbowing each other to get a glimpse of the two of us standing here, but I feel no shame. There’s something empowering at knowing your own ignorances. It gives me an excuse to stand here on display–a chance to do what modesty would normally prevent me from doing.

More likely, nobody is looking, the sun’s glare renders our own windows as impenetrable as theirs, and it doesn’t occur to the people below to look up at my window for a spectacular view of the city. I get dressed, take the lift to the ground floor, and walk outside.


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