we go out and dance,
pull leaves by the fistful,
weave them into crowns
that hold the hair over
our eyes
his sweet fingers,
a song of bonesssssticky
and dripping with honey
watery eyes and
cheeks, flowery
a sudden light from the street
flooding across the floor
like spit milk
where he sleeps, still
as crumpled as paper
after a hard day’s
flower thieving
Rebecca Isgrove
(c) Rebecca Isgrove 2007
October 17th, 2007 at 12:36 pm
Rebecca Isgrove is a guest “Auckland Poet”
October 21st, 2007 at 1:57 am
Congratualations, Rebecca - your poem is the highest ranked poem on the site for Edition 4 (most readers). Well done.
December 12th, 2007 at 9:30 pm
Weave Hair…
Is it expensive getting hair loss treatment? Has anyone tried hair loss shampoos?…