Poem in which she is only able to whisper.

Poem in which
000000000000she is only able to whisper.
A moment is one circular road.

In which his face, edged with a good deal of the day,
clatters on my grief
00000000000000(too near to think).

Poem in which some things are crazily bleak –
concur, believe or say a piece.

Your flame still wears a hole in my thigh.
I dare not look.

Sophie Collins

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s