orgami's Diaryland Diary

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casting stones

there are dust in the tombs
slid in and layered with books
remains of all the machinery
of yesterdays bright moments

I can hear her laughter
still and feel her hands upon
the back of my neck
the bright bank of windows
and the snow on her mittens
still

Whats the weather today?

the radio plays the television
stuck forever it seems on MUCHMUSIC

a snowplow trundles past rattling
the window and the dogs bark
its a life circus
and I want to sleep
sleep and remember the five years
before

the cool showers and the hot water
her flesh rippling with the waves
of stinging hot refreshment
there is no one up
just the empty curving dorm halls
the cinderblock walls painted a
cool yellow
and back in her room the tall window
is slightly open the radiator heat
wavering in the grey light of the
city The black Pines towering
full of mystique and haunted pain

we are sheltered in our lovemaking
the music wrapping around our naked
flesh our mouths damp and lingering
tasting the sin salted
the lust fiery

11:26 p.m. - 2010-08-23

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