“Let’s be in love for just tonight,” you said,
When I had better things to do in red
High heels. Encircling your big bad bed
Like scouts around a campfire, ahead
A ring of muscles pressing us instead
Of sense, misplacing wits, shoes shed — — outspread:
My map, your body.
Folded up: my dread.
___
The featured image accompanying this poem, entitled ‘Let it Grow’, has been used with the permission of artist, Wednesday Morning.
The skin is the largest organ of the human body. It insulates and protects. It contains all we are. Fluids, muscles, tissues and bones, shuddering
I dreamed of the day, In the dead of winter, A dreary day, When I’d step off the train And see you there- The day
It’ll be a Wednesday. It’ll be cloudy outside. There will be fog creeping over the ravine and remnants of an early-morning rain still drifting
An independent literary magazine for contemporary fiction, thought, and opinion about popular culture, society, and everything on the periphery.
