2/20/10

Whisper lovely myths in dusty eaves,
fingers tied loosely with cinnamon cloth.
I thought I saw lashes in tea-soaked leaves,
dripping gray shadows and a powdered moth.
Poise blue china against pulsing marrow,
ripple through the base of a vanilla cup.
My bare skin wandered halls too narrow,
I couldn't bring myself to cover up.
written by at

4 comments:

  1. Joanne OlivieriFebruary 21, 2010 at 8:25 AM

    This imagery brings Plath to mind. Excellent.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gaius BalterFebruary 22, 2010 at 9:33 AM

    I stumbled across your blog, darling. It's glorious. Truly, inspiring. Please visit my personal blog sometime, follow if you'd like.

    ipublish-blogs:
    http://ipublish-blogs.blogspot.com/

    ReplyDelete
  3. The Wandering GypsyFebruary 22, 2010 at 12:11 PM

    Ah! This is brilliant stuff :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. AnonymousFebruary 22, 2010 at 5:05 PM

    I love your blog as well :) <3

    ReplyDelete

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