intensely honest and unbearably sensitive, a non-thematic 'best of' collection of poems spanning about fifteen years, from the poet’s late teens in the 1970s to her early thirties in the 1990s.
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standing on a cliff
in a silent blizzard
and dreaming of kaleidoscopes
all the pieces always fit
Dreaming of Kaleidoscopes by Chris Wind
in the night, your mouth at my neck
a long passionate kiss arches my back
then stronger, hungrier, more purposeful–
i wonder how close you are to my jugular
do you mean to suck at my core?
but you stop
and i am still alive
so i think of leeches instead of vampires.
the next morning, i stand at the mirror
from behind you wrap your arms around me
i am looking at my neck
and seeing the truth of your intent:
a territorial claim to ownership.
then i look at your face and see more
the arrogant leap from brand to birthmark.
during the day, someone asks about it
and realizing the truth of accomplishment
i turn and say to you
it is merely a bruise,
and therefore, nothing permanent.