Sunday, September 20, 2015

Short Poems #3-4

His Love was Thrashing 'Gainst her Heart

His love was thrashing 'gainst her heart, 
then pulling back, releasing shards
of colored glass—erect like guards.
His love and hate displayed; like art.


Perfumed Sunspot

The alley boys had asked if I
had tasted June's perfumed sunspot.
I've gauged devotion only by
the nightly pecks of moonless sky.

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