Thursday, May 21, 2009

The new next door neighbor

Sightless eyes,
Could not see fire in curried squash.
(The knife I sharpened, pressed against her chubby
She wants to sneak into me
Hiding questions
In armpits.)
Perhaps she’s been gossiping with old Shadow. Stupid
There’s not
Just wine colored drapes,
Locks of hair at night;
You also have coffee shops, afternoon weedings, and
contorted hats on a chair.

No comments:

Post a Comment