his blue
belief
was sorrow
wild to
kiss the
curve of her
raw skin
to bruise
her cloudy
eye his
harsh hot
teeth sharp with
need honed
on rocks
and bones scraped
her lids
a lash
of love to
cut the
sullen
tongue of her
to bite
the hard
seed of her
heart he
dreamed to
swallow her
whole &
singing
she let him
POEMS
A - B
C - D
E - F
G - H
I - J
K - L
M - N
O - R
S
W - Z
MORE OF SB's POEMS
@WATERMARK |A Poet's Notebook
- Disclaimer
Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.
In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.
It is likely to be -- it is best if it is -- a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.
A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think -- but it is not necessarily biographical.
TRANSLATE
ChangingLINKS