little pig does poetry
Ad 2:
2003-01-03 09:00:48 (UTC)

There ’s no title appropriate for this

Like a mosquito,
the email bit me
while my consciousness
was still weary, not
fully awake from sleep.
And when my eyes first
scanned through your sentences
like window shoppers,
I sat with an etherized heart
and a laptop on my lap.

But as the frozen eye stared
at me, I slowly unraveled
the message. Soon, my senses
cried, fully emerging from sleep.
And at that moment, I began
to feel the poison of loss,
slithering through the tubes
in my body. And for the
remainder of that New Year’s Eve
afternoon, I tended the bite
as a wounded child.