Monday, October 5, 2009

syncopate

She is a black delicate wonder with teeth and claws as small
as grains of rice.
This air is not pure, but filled with exhale;
with diaphragms collapsing in
smoke clouds.
This furniture is mismatched and torn, but our
tired bodies sink and try
to compose.

i know, i know, i know that love is a low blow.

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