Wednesday, January 19, 2011


the others smudge their
dried blue lips on the windowpane
leaving empty speech bubbles
frozen there
(they need us)
to fill in their blanks
vacant, we are
we don't look
but wait
for accidental warmth-
hold my hand, or
take it off completely,
why bother
everything grew uphill this year
and we can’t feel our feet anymore
so chew off some skin,
how soon until we run out

don't look, but-

they're waiting

No comments:

Post a Comment