Bianca Fiechter

Rookie (5/14/68 / Greenport NY)

Slow Turn - Poem by Bianca Fiechter

Cool crisp unmowed
Emerald green grass
Too sharp to tickle
Too soft to itch.

Waves of sound
Translate into
Sensual language.

Skin awash in
Gooseflesh
Tiny puckers reaching
Stretching searching for
Warmth, touch.

Eyes open wider
Seek color, activity
A new perspective.

The mind soothed
Of it’s savagery
If only for the momentary,
Brief respite

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, June 12, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, June 14, 2011


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