Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Question: When you don't know what to write, then set your mind free.
Carved shoulders, wet with gripping sickness
footsteps like Jesus in the sand,
squelching momentary proof of passing
And my hand goes to my eyes, for the sun, though it's not sunny
It creeps to my mouth, caressing a beard that's not there
Then leaps back to my side, gripping at my bare thigh, the hairs there
She sloughs the clinging fingers of the water
I could watch the path of every dripping caress
I would slow time if I could
I would kill all the children for only double the moments
I would let the world end for a chance to worship at her curling toes
She smiles the smile of empty passing
Or maybe the smile of intense desire
I have no compass.
Short Answer: Good lesson, though not a question. Fail.