You sit on a chair in the back of my mind,
your invitation in hand.
And you lean back from a four-legged chair
to a two-legged chair, and I can’t understand
what you’re doing there in the back of my mind.
Your intelligent eyes
are looking at me out from under your hair.
You don’t care
what it costs me to keep your there
on that two-legged chair,
intimately touching me there where I’m bare:
in the back of my mind.
YOU ARE READING
The Back of My Mind (Poetry)
PuisiI like to write fiction, but I love to write poetry. Here is a collection of some of my favorite pieces.
