drooping
like an unwatered iris
filled with water
mistair fills
my eyes...brain
the sand is a quilt--
grains under fingernails
between toes--
each breath drowns me dry
smothers me fresh.
i can't believe
that it's been this long
and i stop wishing
for meadowsgreen
and submit to the sea.
2 comments:
ooh! I like this one. and I think that, definitely, Jones Poems is doing well, fantastic even. :)
Thanks. I'm pretty pleased with its course so far too. I'm feeling productive as far as poetry is concerned lately.
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