her cold
hand
is on your
shoulder.
it surprises
you, this
icy palm,
the frigid
fingers.
how does a
hand get
this cold.
it lies
there,
without nails,
without
tenderness.
cold
and detached.
but it's better
than no
hand you tell
yourself,
pulling up
the blankets
with a shiver.
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September
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- wild flowers
- where did the morning go
- dinner party
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- you own nothing
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- wrinkle free
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About Me
- Stephen Chute
- west springfield, virginia, United States
- these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
3 comments:
I'm not so sure about that. Zombie?
yes. met her on zombiedate dot com....in the midnight hour, she cries more more more.
Just thought you missed her (fun) use of them (nails & warmth) etc. JackieD
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