Friday, July 29, 2011

hard poems (II)


that water is cold
but it does not refuse to touch you
your skin is astonished
but it remains
there is something pure
almost a remedy
it turns you red
it turns you blue
and your blood stampedes in confusion

something like a snake bite
a needle of the sun
it hurts me, baby
just a little
just a little bit

S. Sparling

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