Rumplestiltskin of my soul
a soul of no place
of dream
of never
here by the skin of my flesh
a singing flesh so warmly covered
siding me
and against
Soon did I drift towards you
a hazy snail into the pocket of my desire
to sleep there
pale with longing
Take me to market, do
or to the rainbow
or down Bloor Street
anywhere, please
For I do cradle here
your name so fully on my lips.
If you open me unto your palm
I do smile still
for I flower here
in the warmth
of your loving skin.
Similar Stories:
Mrs. X
Mrs. X, her name was strange and long,
broke one night out of her dingy, foul-smelling
second floo...
Yellow Song
I see the yellow song upon my paper
the colour of the sun or the
centre of a daisy
petals down
Flying
“You don’t look a day older,”
he glows amiably.
Which is true.
I have a youthful face.
And being...
Scattered to the Wind
Still as stone
she lies beside her husband
soon to be her ex.
Forty years earlier, at 28,
she ...
Orpheus and I
Trailing behind you
along the night-deserted highway
above, black sky, sharp stars,
below no soun...