1.23.2009

epic


for Lynne

butcher’s hands erase
your wake
sleep
like a minor
movement as
caress
always a sea
beneath us
that hungry
part within
fill you
to toes
with my rising
the whole of you
lilting

it is never
just words

2 Comments:

Blogger Matt Dioguardi said...

This is a great poem!

blah ... blah ... words fail me. You're exactly write!

Beautiful.

3:56 PM  
Blogger Jess said...

Thanks Matt.

9:30 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home