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Literature Text
he tried his best
to kiss
away
the sallow of my
cheek,
the graze on my arm
and the bruise
on my thigh,
but i guess i couldn't mention
the three ribs, snaking red like a noose.
Literature
Virginal Year
It feels like poetry for a new beginning:
Running in slow motion,
Laying a fresh path in the
Tentative first snow of a virginal year.
Your hand shapes a safe home in which my
Shivering fingers nestle;
You sow a field of forgetting
Over the weary road behind.
Untouched and unafraid, this
Unfamiliar unconditionality, this
Darkness so vivid, this
Uncertainty so certain.
We build that which is
From that which we were.
In the sanctity of our year,
In the unwritten and pure,
You and I are as new in this moment
As ever we have been.
We are here.
We are now.
We are.
Literature
Dromomania
Every day I turn the key in the lock
Hoping to find you
tucked into the white folds
of an envelope,
of the bath towel I left on the sofa this morning.
But you and I, we haven't the breadth for that sort of thing.
I wish I could send you something of spring,
some distended meteor green with hope.
I'm watching the last of the oak leaves cling
stubborn
and I think
spring may not be coming this year.
There is no birdsong, there is
the furious sleeping of toads in the mud.
I came on the bench
where I slept in the warmth of your memory
this time last year.
Now the thought seems less mine and maybe it was
me you'd dreamt beside,
m
Literature
Christmas presents
i.
asking dad
"what would mum like?"
he's no idea either
ii.
at the same store -
buying gifts for
my girl & mum
iii.
married 20 years,
her fake smile more real
than my silk roses
iv.
unwrapping your gift too eagerly,
I miss the tsutsumu!
v.
your present
a "new" novel;
I find a bookmark
vi.
next Christmas
seeing his gift, dad tells me
"I've read this"
Suggested Collections
getting intimate here am i.
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