lastline/firstline
her eyes
as tired as a mother’s
stare straight into mine
be gentle
she says.
your limbs
flex hard against my bed
in your eyes i see
an old man waiting to die.
i am as gentle
with her
as i am with a poem
the way i slowly start,
hinting at first
at that first half-thought
the way i softly stop,
slowing it all with that
last line
as tired as a mother’s
stare straight into mine
be gentle
she says.
your limbs
flex hard against my bed
in your eyes i see
an old man waiting to die.
i am as gentle
with her
as i am with a poem
the way i slowly start,
hinting at first
at that first half-thought
the way i softly stop,
slowing it all with that
last line
posted by jes at 1:43 pm
2 Comments:
nice poetry.
just stop me why don't you?
in my tracks
rythym and sound
between the first and last of all your lines
seeing things, moving
Post a Comment
<< Home