Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

August 5, 2009

On Upper Room Quilts

Filed under: poetry — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 8:49 am

I’d put the pockmarks

Real or imagined

Right up there why

I sheltered in shy.

I bet my ballocks,

Too full like my skull,

Hairpin triggered,…

They both strained my locks.

Old rain windowed our talks.

We’d wait ’till they won’t wake,

On  upper room quilts.

Whispering in our underthings,

Saying secrets low, no guilt.

The big black would not hide us none.

I would seek her beacon smile,

She would watch me redden.

Way short of once and awhile

Our smooth skins would meet

Like downed power lines go

On a new snow street.

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