"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray
"Poetry unites." ~Anon
"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson
Written by Sarah Hina
She lives in Athens, Ohio, USA
Her blog: Murmurs
Solo
Rub me like I am the
string and you are the bow
and then maybe I’ll make
a sound, some kind of
holy unbecoming,
instead of this long
flat drone of mouth
sewn wide and
atomic words that won’t
grip the teeth
but implode by my
tongue
If desire is song,
numb is stacked silence,
so I'll pick them apart
with lead-lined gloves
and pluck myself
anew
Originally published on writer's personal blog.
Posted with consent of the writer.
Featuring: Poetry, Sarah Hina
8 Comments:
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M.IV
and then maybe I'll make
a sound, some kind of
holy unbecoming,
and
If desire is song,
numb is stacked silence,
so I'll pick them apart
with lead-lined gloves
and pluck myself
anew
The images of the lead-lined gloves and atomic words move this beyond mere sensuality.
I have to read it again and again.