Mon
Aug
15
Passion
passion might be
bruised shoulder blades
meeting feelings your fingertips
will slice the glass
those same fingers could also paint
a line of sight
down the misted pane
slowly
reactionary raspberries are
scuffed skin marks blood dripping
bitten lips guzzling
holy vowel sounds
quicken
too momentary to be photographed
the backseat is a porcelain horse
poised on a carousel of such dizzying force
color stops being color
just whirls of light
white as wonder
hair to brail
hands telling tales
