The tear wound bleeds inked paper,
book spines, rusty sandal clasp,
computer cord veins, black. Ribbons of
blue frayed flesh unravel lissome. The
mouth heaves a soft bible with
matted leaves like a sigh, teeth
tearing apart, a toothbrush
tweezing the jagged gap.
Pens poke like spines from its
netted sides, tangled in old receipts.
A half-full CamelBak wedges between it
and an unfamiliar backseat. Two slender
legs, long, crossed, curl over it, serape-coated,
socks swishing the window at cars that pass
on the road.
-5.6.2014
YOU ARE READING
Skin
PoetryPoetry. A touch of travel writing: Ethiopia, Oxford, Belgium, Colorado. A lick of nature writing. Some grief. All poetry.
