Thursday, November 13, 2008

More on cold turbulent stones


Kelly Thompson said...

Lovely. I'll respond with a poem I wrote:

by Kelly Thompson

I polish his bones
with my hands,
crumple his face like
sheets of soft paper.
Only his ice blue eyes remain,
Cracked porcelain marbles
I roll in my mouth
until they are petrified wood,
caramel rivers of sweet,
flowing through blood;
and the pores of my skin
open like flowers
to his sun-soaked tongue.

lu said...

Brin Equus to mind...How I wanted to play that boy...