There are times when you simply
cannot do anything.
You lay there in Medusa’s
ugly vision, sat in granite
with nothing apart from
the breast you are touching.
It isn’t even a breast,
just a pocket of air
that your mind urges you to think is
a beautifully sculpted woman.
That doesn’t matter though,
we find our pleasures
anyway,
whether it be a candle’s tone
a man’s fingering hand
or the piece of gentle anatomy
that you have held in your pocket.
Mary X.
OK, IM THINKING ANNE SEXTAN, , , , , STILL A NICE POEM...
i like endings that take you by surprise. are raw. and fitting to a well-voiced piece.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Stimulating poem. I like all the lines, but I especially like the lines: There are times when you simply cannot do anything. You lay there in Medusa’s ugly vision, set in granite, with nothing apart from the breast you are touching.