give it love
your eyes
are ovaries,
oceans
sought,
future miles.
now in
the grass,
light wind
sifts
your hair,
a low
shimmering
field-borne
odor
feeds our breath.
I touch
your long
fingers
in the bare
cool
night
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Posted by Unknown at 8:20 AM
Subscribe to:
Comment Feed (RSS)
|