Red Writing Reading Black Poem by Paul Foulkes
Red Writing Reading Black
my mind unset
wet clothes sticking to cold skin
rain mixed with sweat
nerves and concentration unwinding from its balled coil
relaxing, her voice truly relaxing
bitter taste of anxious unanswered questions like the taste of oil
with my patience give am i unsettled? my body out maxing?
of all the feelings
of all the quivers
why does this one have to become the branch arrow in my heart?
~XxxX~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:18:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
