The first time you wanted to just keep kissing: and so we did in a slow red movement of swords and chariots and fire-tipped arrows sweeping against the sky. Gardeners came out. All they had were onions. I peeled one with my fat clumsy fingers and sucked out the blood.
Rauan Klassnik Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2024, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.