requested crap
Out of the skirt’s hem
unfold and fold
her legs and the black line
where they meet,
pressed red in heat.
Where a woman’s legs cross
and smooth, bare skin
kisses smooth, bare skin,
there is a dark line—
not quite complete shadow—
in the gap, a breath
that stops clocks.
Her legs and that black line’s path
traced faithfully to its end
by sudden eyes.
unfold and fold
her legs and the black line
where they meet,
pressed red in heat.
Where a woman’s legs cross
and smooth, bare skin
kisses smooth, bare skin,
there is a dark line—
not quite complete shadow—
in the gap, a breath
that stops clocks.
Her legs and that black line’s path
traced faithfully to its end
by sudden eyes.
posted by shakes at 10:20 AM
1 Comments:
Not crap. And new rule. Each poet MUST comment on posts by the other two. Constructive criticism or pure praise--either one, but a comment is now required. There is no extra credit. One word responses are not accepted.
I think this one needs a new title, and I like the last stanza. I'm sure you do not speak from experience.
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