Charles Malcolm Poems

This last one will burn pure
with perfect intent and perception
and confusing clarity
and her blue-crystalline fire
...

In moments
fleeting
I catch a glimpse of happiness
like unlatched bathroom doors
...

People don't leave
or go missing.

They were never even here.
...

I've seen a man microwave a sponge.
A woman horde baby's clothing.
Cubicles.
Two drink maximums.
...

She's like a long surfboard
or a thin lane
when I look her up and down.
...

There are people
who force you to trudge through
the concrete and quicksand
and others
...

'I can write about anything, ' I said
before I sat here.

'That first night and the cake mix.
...

Not short, I say
as my fingers float above the keys.
Pale either.
...

I spent
my childhood
rotting
alongside windex
...

I run my tongue across the spine
of a woman who isn't mine.

Broken minds and crooked lines.
...