Aimee Herman Poems

fourteen lilies
lick the condensation
of sweat and
lack of rest
...

flasher with brown coat
constructed by words,
undoes strap of leather punctuations
revealing nude exclamations of
...

sometimes I wonder if maybe
I don't even have any
that the tiny clusters of supple skin
are just my bones
...

your kiss is an undiagnosed sarcoma
growing beneath my belly button
carved-out tomb
where you may place your inquiries
...