words are just the clumsy tools we use to get at the truth
Monday, October 9, 2017
an axle in your bellybutton
just like the wind turbines we saw driving i70 through kansas the day before you spun slowly all night between us in the king size hotel bed your head in my armpit your feet in my face your ribcage across my knee the tiny mechanisms of your sleep groaning quietly as you turned
No comments:
Post a Comment