I keep my tools
hidden,
until the sun rasps
its black breath over
the suburbs. Only then
Writer
October 5, 2012
Issue 04, Issue 04 Poetry, Poetry
I keep my tools
hidden,
until the sun rasps
its black breath over
the suburbs. Only then
the Body rearranges
itself around
the other. points of entry and exit,
embraces. Embraces. the
thrill of skin. density
surrenders to Liquid. semen, blood,
mucous, milk. the Body yields to