Monday, June 14, 2010

This Harp Inside of Me

bee stings get louder,

rattle their way

into the car.

heat slows the speed

of their wings.

they hover

and wait.

this world is


what’s love?

what’s love?

what turns up

in the dark?

this harp inside of me

barely sings.

I am blessed

with an instrument

that cannot wail.

he goes to kiss me

and tastes nothing

but salt.

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