Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Trailed Ink

Insipid box

ed

of jailed magnolia
her silk cupola strained
into unnerved veins
hovered
into a lymphatic embrace

her cage a shrine of terror

a leashed expectation

The scarlett smudge of her fruit
a magnetic wish
breached
at the core
by straddled lips
that bequeathed their selves

Instill

ed

in her awkward breeze
that slightest storm
of unspoken memory
it's craving limbs
a strangling hold on reason

a breath lost in place

2 Comments:

Blogger Unknown said...

do you still have my boobies poem?

9:28 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

quite nice

2:51 PM  

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