The Silver Stabbing Poem by Rebecca Stansfield
The Silver Stabbing
Blistered hands that uncover
the masters, blood red guts,
what is more? the blood-red sheets,
dead-lover laying on.
A kingdom of his own hell-
the sadness of a rope
falling falling, sucked of hope;
the tired eyes layin' on.
The fork so silver that the moon
is wishing stabs away,
as if the light is struggling
where the stab marks lay.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
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4/25/2024 8:17:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
