The choke of her hair
the smoke of her smile
a finger up a spine
index indexing
indicating
something hard to define
Languish on napes of necks
on hips and ribcages
memorize finger prints
that smudge on backseat glass
every sworl every worl
the unchanging as the ages pass.
I had to read this several times before I could comment. It is a very interesting poem and flows well but the combination of words don't give off a good vibe for me. A bit like chalk scratching on a black board. I don't mean that in a derogatory way toward your poem, I am just explaining how it made me feel. I did find it a very interestsing read and it has left me still wondering about it. Gyp's
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Kinda like this piece. I have no idea what the title refers to.