EMPTY TOMB CHELSEY WEBER-SMITH
Coat of all these cold hands
once love leaves you
what poems do you have?
It left like ten snakes
struggling across the sand
I wait for the colors of the world
to undo this stoney jaw
I bruise and bruise
until the blue
blooms like a resurrection
a rock rolling to the side
and then there’s nothing there
You love a cave full of clothes
don’t you? You love a vanishing
a coin hidden in the palm
the thought that god might
hide in plain sight
everything is easy
everything happens on a carpet
the color of your blood
a tablecloth
ripped from you
the crystal left ringing
like a woman crying
at a cave
Here’s a cave
if I curl myself just right
you can climb inside
and tell me if the ghost
opens
if the wounds make it real
if the blue bruises on its cheeks
makes it flinch