by Melanie J Yarbrough
it flutters and festers
and we call each one by our names,
the eyelashes we pluck with plump fingers
like feathers from a dying bird
I can't remember specifics
than you can remember
what I look like with my clothes
don't whisper questions you know that I won't
because your breath smells like mint and my saliva
before I even know your name
Posted on 03/16/2008
Copyright © 2022 Melanie J Yarbrough
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/16/08 at 02:27 AM|
Those last two lines brought some old-school R.E.M. to mind. I'm not sure why, but that's definitely a compliment, I assure you. Fine work.
|Posted by George Hoerner on 03/16/08 at 04:35 AM|
Nicely done! I enjoyed this. Thanks.
|Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 03/16/08 at 10:53 PM|
this is risque and sexy, interesting and almost a hint of sweet on the side. i love the title too, which i never say about other people's poems. i read it four times to digest the fine print details and paint an image maybe everyone who reads this would love to see. it's about time you write something new...this is delicious.