orgami's Diaryland Diary

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Wenona

hips like slim single lane abutements
your spine rated for spring loads
and the jewel machined action of
that knife you use to peel oranges
and the juice trickles down your
proud chin and you spit the seeds
behind the television for the cat
to chase You toss up your
cowboy boot brass tipped and
worn heel and the tanned brown leg
is smooth "I can shave with this
when I oil the stone right" and
you trace your routes of love with
its vicious tip I remember the
number you carved on my rib
livid and beading
"this is how many times I will leave"
and the thin black leather belt
shines and encircles you like
a burned passage

10:29 p.m. - 2010-09-03

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