with his newness
roses bloom inside my head
in that blue, bone-colored thought
say the name as often as I can
to feel its meaning in my mouth
taste the action
of seeing his colored cheeks across chairs
thinking of green growth
and the stone I’ll live in
wondering if his eyes will stay
or disappear like runners round the bend
and I’ll have only those
images of skin and night
No comments:
Post a Comment