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THIS POEM IS BEST FORMATTED FOR LANDSCAPE VIEW
Malleable
by Adam D. Weeks
Runestone, volume 6
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Call me your sweetener, sinful we’ll shape the sound
of soft jazz against us. Meld yourself to the slope of
curly oak and name it ferly for the heat caught
in the carpet that spells us caesium. Watch the water dust
across my fingers and collapse into the sun,
dancing through my skylight— drag me
through the air, through the leaking decanter
and between our mercury, I’ll melt myself
along the crescent and into the half night we claimed
our black-out cover in the motel window.
stay fresh as the two a.m. till we move to the back seat I shove
in my back pocket, faded to the shape of your palm. I keep
cold beer on my teeth ‘cause I can’t figure how to swallow
salt water and willow, woven through the tide. The bitter
‘bout four p.m.—past supper time and I’m still rubbing canvas, raw
like the wind across our fogged glass. The chandelier swings
long when the wind slows, the wind they whisper when you fly
through the suburbs at eleven, too late and losing
taste till plain white peppermint is all
we know how to say. At dawn I’ll taste shotgun
till we move to the backseat, till we dry like the winter
sweet you hide in my wallet.
Adam D. Weeks
Salisbury University
Adam D. Weeks is a junior studying creative writing at Salisbury University. He had a poem previously published in The Saunterer. He has poems forthcoming in Asterism and a fiction piece forthcoming in The Scarab Review.