deepundergroundpoetry.com
Leaning Over
Filling me up until my hands shake on the ends of these thin arms.
Wrap themselves around the body they belong to
in a slow coil like thievery
and untold stories full with sin.
The bones, they bend
so hand over shoulder
ghost white skin
lay on top and weave under;
these bones with a place for my forehead to rest,
these lips mutter prayer as they lean into nest.
Wrap themselves around the body they belong to
in a slow coil like thievery
and untold stories full with sin.
The bones, they bend
so hand over shoulder
ghost white skin
lay on top and weave under;
these bones with a place for my forehead to rest,
these lips mutter prayer as they lean into nest.
Published 6th Apr 2013
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