Wednesday, May 16, 2012
mittens
where are my garden gloves to weed out your evils?
where are my rubber gloves to scrub off your stupid?
where are my surgical gloves to cut out your hard heart?
where are my boxing gloves to smash your face in?
I am just mittens, limp, fingerless and all thumbs.
opposable but disposable, could be permissible,
but just dismissible-you don't remember anything
even though you were there.
and I am just mittens-laid out, laid off, laid on, imposable.
intricate thread patterns meant to envelope sweet silky hands
with very little muscle.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tickle your toes. . .
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
-
Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
-
sex object. not afraid of the words. I've used many objects for the sake of sex. in fact my body has been pretty disposable- I don't...
-
Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
as I left the waterfront and I climbed up the sandy stair as always his brothers were first; to greet me. I've had past dealings with th...
-
Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
-
Private Edgar Perry for Edgar Allen Poe I reported for duty, a Bostonian, surly, moody, unsteady. Twenty and two, not eighteen, Yes, twenty ...
-
I was just awarded the Perfect Poet Award from Promising Poet's Cafe/Jingle Poetry. I'm excited, I want to nominate everybody but I... -
hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
Poets United Contributor
No comments:
Post a Comment