Tuesday, July 27, 2010

St. Panteleon (invoked against headaches)

all I can think about

is the way your face

hit the pavement.

poppies bloomed

from your knees

and all the world

caught a glimpse

of those bruises

like violets

on the backs

of your thighs.

this is not the way

I would prefer to dream.

I knew I was dreaming

because milk flowed

where blood should be.

your body promised me

this couldn’t possibly

be real.

No comments:

Post a Comment