Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Latest Poem


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.


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!