| |
Grate, grate, grate
My heart slides over the finger-top, dimpled metal plates
Shavings of flesh squeeze, bloody
Through the sharp curves
I gave you a small, stilly shiny-smooth corner of my soul
Not criss-cross kelloid with the past
To caretake
And you force it
Grate, grate, grate
Through the serrated surfaces
With your pointed words
And leave me oozing
Damaged
Grate, grate, grate
Another scar, another surface
Open to salt
Open to burn
Open over you
Grate, grate, grate
15/06/2006
Abbi van den Berg
| Submitted Date |
: |
Tuesday, June 20, 2006 |
| Submitted Date |
: |
Saturday, August 07, 2010 |
|
|
Poets
