wheatcolored
the hair of a western girl
my hands
flushed without color
a blushing without red
fainting to see the truth
lips and tongues
sweetening to taste
the blondeness
of hands so ancient to touch
and peeling back the skin of it all
deeply inhaling
the pink underneath
what gives us ourselves
and as I walk to a destroyed door
a cracked window
a paint-splattered façade
the brokendownness
all I see
you
me
wheatcolored hands
too ancient a touch
to touch



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inspired by "The Wrong Band" by Tori Amos
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08/11/2002

Posted on 08/11/2002
Copyright © 2024 Emily G Myers