CHRISTINE LIWAG DIXON - POEMS

Christine Liwag Dixon is a writer and musician. She is currently working on her first novel.

Wicked

Maybe I'm not wicked. Maybe no one
is.
Maybe I am just an embroidered
mess of thread, dyed and knotted and tangled
into ever-spooling spirals.
Someone
must see a glimmer of art (haphazard
though it might be), a rushing of stoppered
brilliance ready to be gathered and combed.

Maybe we're tapestries in the making,
ragged, undone, sometimes coming apart,
yet still beautiful in our stark rawness,
suspended in crude state but still breathing,
still bold, still fighting, still worthy, still art---

Maybe I'm wicked.
Maybe the world is. 

​The Heart of You

Let me hold all of you,
not just the sun-spots scrawled across your back 
and the stray hairs curling beneath your earlobes,
but also the emptiness you felt 
when your grandmother died 
and suddenly death became not just a syllable in the dictionary 
but a yawning pool with no bottom.

Let me hold all of you,
stripped not just of the suit you wore to the office,
but also the father who told you to man up 
when you cried after falling off your bike for the first time.

Don't just lean against me with stoic limbs 
as the world crashes around your walls;
Let me hold your scars, 
your anxious thoughts, 
the terror that nothing will ever be enough, 
the shadows that crawl into your dreams at night.

Let me love not just the man you think you should be, 
impervious to emotion, 
indestructible tower of unquivering strength,

Let me love the heart of you. 

​Collision Course

Meet me in the bitter limits 
where love is on the brink of collapse
where our bodies are weary and our souls are weaker still
and the universe has fallen off its tracks.

Hold me as the world is dying
as we spin off our axis
as we ricochet between destiny and desire
shroud our final moments in a kiss.