in
storms |
walking
into the
water, the cotton
clings, a part of you
swirls, mutates- you
regain the weight of
childhood, buoyant but
ignorant...of anything, something
dark deep
determined.
only your hair is
truthful, that
long blond halo cannot
breathe, and now
heavy and
jealous, it wraps
you up, pulls
you down; a cocoon, you
drown
|
staring
at a naked |