Monday, April 22, 2013


Once these curls billowed like seaweed
like me in the shallows of your attentions.
willowy no more, nothing svelte remains
except that love, now twice as thin as the ghost
swishing in the gutters of my ego.
My artillery bilious, my owl eyes tired
my squandering generator absconded,
and so I stand upwind, my curls fast asleep.

No comments:

Post a Comment