Pale Shiksa - Poem by Pasha Satara
when the moon is sweating on the bed
I will borrow hard
the cry of sand and footsteps
and listen, listen -
everyone is walking away.
L.Cohen, are you torn where the blood dances blue
from the last waltz in Vienna?
You thin gypsy thief -
do not kiss me anywhere;
the dew is frost upon my thighs.
You have thrown everything away for Lili Marlene
and she is never coming back.
when Picasso knelt before you,
did the moon sweat then?
Your passion hung on a wood post fence
how did your hummingbird cry?
Comments about Pale Shiksa by Pasha Satara
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You