"Your collarbone was hot snow to touch
Clavicle, clavichord
Gold keys falling through me cold
Rain rains down
Blue-black on earth
And sends riders, striders,
Bruising yellow
Blood in a stream
Back to the eastern horizon
Where I kissed you.
If you would wake with e
I'd know how to die.
Man under influence of sky."
-James Galvin
No comments:
Post a Comment