deepundergroundpoetry.com
Like Freedom
It feels like freedom.
Wild winds whistle in my ear, and I sniff deep the many perfumes of passing Earth: grass, burn piles, foul forgotten carcasses, charcoal grills, honeysuckles, and crisp post-rain air.
My life is in my lover’s hands; My hands are on his waist. One wrong move would shatter my bones and grate my flesh like fine parmesan….
But it feels like freedom.
Wild winds whistle in my ear, and I sniff deep the many perfumes of passing Earth: grass, burn piles, foul forgotten carcasses, charcoal grills, honeysuckles, and crisp post-rain air.
My life is in my lover’s hands; My hands are on his waist. One wrong move would shatter my bones and grate my flesh like fine parmesan….
But it feels like freedom.
Published 9th Sep 2017
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