1.
Tread slightly.
Feather-like,
wisplight.
Tread.
As my baby sleeps.
Sound,
breathing,
((cuddled/ bundled,
in my delicate
thread.))
2.
Lithe.
like a Freak-ed Freak.
Madding, Breaking
and slightly drunk it roams,
looking for a roof to hide under.
Slung,
flightlessly mirthless,
across my shoulders.
Flooding my tipping,
Mache ship.
Shrugging my tempest queen.
Sifting for grains
of certain amber crystals.
The storm has come.
The plague is, upon us.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment