Pham

Runs With River of Woe
2001-09-17 22:16:43 (UTC)

Appliance Poetry

**
Like the summer
I am consumed by a wild, dark wind

**

The fever of your skin
burns my blood
teases my tongue
dances with the taste
of your salt
of your lips
of the endless mirage of your soul

**

Once when we were very young
I tasted the flavor of june green
and august brown
and february white
and I longed for the red, red taste of love

**

If I brew the coffee
will you pour the milk
and peel the oranges
and fold the napkin

If I hold out a croissant
will your lips brush my palm
and will you know that I am feeding you
peices of me

**

You stalk the room in long paces
as if you are catching up
with a long lost past

You circle around me
and I smell pine
and oil
and the smell of your cologne

And I feel like the prey

**

weightlessness is passing over me
as a ghostly crane I fold into origami

**

I am better at beginnings than endings