Tuesday, May 31, 2011

80 MPH

brilliant, morning sharp,
doe's plush ruff flat compresses crash wall
feathery fur yet warm

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

He did not answer the question she posed

Closer she crept
The bulbs of her thighs perched on the stems of her calf, balanced on the balls of her feet
She poured her hand onto his shoulder
Splayed black bright strands over his chest

He made no visible move

Outside nothing changed
No sound sustained
Two feet of snow lingered under depthless blue and searchlight moon

He gathered her hair into his fist