Tuesday, March 27, 2012

felt slippers

well it is raining isn't it
the sky is opaque a cup of tea i think of how,
i like it and
of how you wouldn't like it

baby bairn i'm acclimatin'
it's all very infatuatin'
the sky full of water
the sound full of sea
the lake full of lake and the
city full of wells,

but i think of how 
i wore your grey felt slippers 
'round your house

i think of how 
you would scratch my curly head
with those long, blonde
square fingers

how no one else 
could do it that way

and a bloom of sadness
which lies half-asleep
turns its frown 
toward my face

and looks right
into my eyes.

so it is then.
never a stain that rain could 
just wash away

a bruise
something beneath my skin
and i don't know 
how many bowls of blood 
i will have to drink 

before my own overtakes
the tea in my veins

such spiders-legs compared 
to your thick branches

No comments:

Blog Archive