
Napowrimo#12
the poppies won't die tonight I sense the drama through the bleeding faces again the parched vase of you and me the horizon of us- a hallowing question to that equation the fields seem opaque, dreary, with white sunflowers I run and burn to sniff your presence to sniff the existence the love equation to the sky and to things beyond my feet seem to be the carrier of our love poems, enthralled and quiet almost like a woman lost in translation Chips in frost. cold barren as if a tree unfolded a leaf so huge the love rises and sinks and stinks, it breaks and fills the spaces with things so small almost like a hurricane, moths fluttering, there is no place left to make love- not between such damp sheets, at least.