Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Please Blot Me

Let me speak of salvation. 
                        Half tethered
amongst your coats' pile in the corner. 

Mine is there.
New. 
Yellowish against the black of the wall 
and your eyes shining through to melt 
my arms outstretched. 

There is something bleeding;
from the joints they type I love you.
I love you.
I love you;
away from yet inside the seam.

(I am weeping your fluid)


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