by Lisa Zaran
I have forced nothing out of my life
except love
and its ten thousand variations.
I bleed on nobody's carpet
except my own
which I dyed red just for this purpose.
I want nothing from you
except you
and every skeletal bone from your past.
I want your present too
and your future and your death
so that I may be the one
to carry you into the next life.
I want to be laid beside you
in a grave below roots and detection
in the same coffin
so that we can be put to rest
front to front, our mouths touching.
You megre into the green. You have great earring. The poem is perfection. What season are you having there?
ReplyDeleteWe're heading to winter, but I guess it is fall. Fall and spring seasons are not easily noticed in tropical countries. That green on the background stays that way throughout the year.
ReplyDelete