“Inspired
from Play
Button Poems by Liz Robbins”
Be exposed,
you
weight of error
fused to the reddened child
like Jesus on his crucifix
in October
Tricks of smoke drip
off my tongue to land
between
Juno’s spread legs
behind the drooped laundry line
her pockmarked mum
frozen in silent warmth
Our generation
the last of the guitar bodies
lay on colored tissue
bloodied
by the gut-ropes hidden by
the purple twinge we call
Dear Darkness
No comments:
Post a Comment