I cannot remember your voice
But your body was special to me,
More valued than the family silver;
Your vagina sweet as a nut
Secreted away by a squirrel:
Your hair a tangled forest
That protected us while we slept.
You clasped my hand in the darkness
Because I was precious to you,
A gift to pack under the coverlet,
And not to write home about.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
March 29th. 2014.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
If I were a camera I would zoom in directly On winter trees loud with anthracite crows, The ice white ripples on a cold shallow lake; The da... -
With you not here beside me Life seems a near blank page With only a comma on it. A solitary smudge of ink Where words should build cathedr...
-
Yesterday I went back home To the land of the White Rabbit, The Griffin, and the Sheep who both Rows and knits, parting the autumn reeds Wit...
No comments:
Post a Comment