Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Latest Poem

Untitled

She, the hair-trigger
smoted and pregnant
with retort.

No matter the time
the dark lumbers behind her, 
loyal & lovelorn.

Bed mates, companions,
"One cannot see without the other,
nor would they desire to."

How the night, sticky in its pain,
holds them to its chest.


*

Written over the past week.

4 comments:

Rot said...

I really dig this.

Jay's Shadow said...

Wonderful short poem.

Mark Faucett said...

Moving... I'm at a loss of how you poets do what you do, it is so abstract for me.

Willow Cove said...

What a great poem, Bean!