Saturday, March 3, 2012


He knifed his way
Through my heart, thighs
Not one, none of it was true
of eclipse or planets colliding
He said
my body
shone and scorched
in his hands
I was
in a world of stampedes
feet by feet
until I was fluid and open
He stabbed the eyelid
of my skin
and wept in the morning
In the language of bedsheets
he spoke to my skin
left me
a thorny wreath of goodbyes ©

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