the mind lingers
on these sordid images:
fingers, legs, lips
intertwined,
...
It was in choked,
hushed whispers
that they told our story,
assuming (very bravely)
...
this child is a small one,
just taking in its first gulps of
arid air,
it is only a moment or two
...
Crouched thus,
the cold, tiled floor
has much to offer
the steady drip from the rusty pipe
...
been trying to write and writing for some time now. I write pretty much when I feel anything... and sometimes when i feel nothing.)
- Different Strokes -
Red,
you had said
Red!
I had said
This is the
color
of our delirium.
A river
between
the parting in my hair