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wasps asleep on our tongue
by Marina Dawn
perhaps the buoyancy of our
selves has become a question
as seamless as glass, now as a wet foot
heavy on the skin:
a question we ask
our selves in dreams,
as a starlight sifting through your hair
or mouth
blinding as your voice opening
at last; blinding as the gathering
of water
ii.
perhaps the slowing of our
selves has become hard as held hands,
crows perched in the february
night. perhaps.
until i turn to find you
gone at the center
of the city like a semaphore--
a starlight stretching
across the windows of the street
where you go to sleep,
turpentine. go to sleep, venom.
02/13/2003 Posted on 02/17/2003
Copyright © 2024 Marina Dawn
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by JD Clay on 02/17/03 at 06:25 AM WoW! This is a volatile piece Marina . Great effect and alluring title to boot. Nice work. Peace... |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/12/03 at 08:15 PM A vivid and dark piece. Well-crafted. Thanks for sharing. |
| Posted by Shirin Swift on 11/07/06 at 07:25 AM i love this peppery, diverse piece, "perhaps the slowing of our/selves has become hard as held hands", an expansive inner landscape. |
| Posted by Paul Lastovica on 06/21/11 at 09:05 PM I haven't read something like this in a long, long time. Excellent POTD; right up my ally. |
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