Like ribs
of a broken umbrella
fingers are
just bone dressed
with a bite
of flesh, cold in
their independence
until hand finds
hand, those negative
spaces filled,
the always-wanting
comforted.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
“When I Come Home” I get this feeling when I come home. It’s the feeling That I got- Today: when I crossed the Red River barreling toward Ja...
-
Dream Knowledge I miss sleeping with a woman I love. Our bodies parallel, our dreams passing back and forth, the distance like a bridge as m...
No comments:
Post a Comment