Skip to content

Pinstripe (Cut Glass and Novocaine)

August 25, 2013

ninetynine

Mongeralish doggerel, ha!
But it comes from the soul.
If the hat’s laying empty.
Then pass me the bowl.
If I can’t see you in bed.
Let me at least see you home.
Red on my pillow.
And red in my bones.
Tell me rain.
Why’d you leave me?
To face the summer alone.
Helios hammers at my window so sweetly.
That I might sleep-swallow him whole.
I remember.
Your bare shoulders.
That little crease in your flat stomach.
When you’ve nothing to lose the cards fall on their own.

Advertisements

From → Poetry

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: