Spun Words

Spinster's poetry...enter at your own risk

My Photo
Location: Oakland, CA

Bringing the stories back to history....

Tuesday, August 16, 2005


That long night
from chair to sofa
that I didn't sleep,
and the sound of your breathing
was sandpaper
on my sanity,
I wished you dead.

When the bugs crawled the walls
and we reached for one another,
I should have stopped
to look at the revolution
of our hands together -
my pale palm
your dark palm.

I should have steadied
my breathing with yours
at this connecting
one human to another
in the midst of a hallucinating death.

But you were the first to go,
and I wanted it done.
The tearing of my soul
acceptable grief
if you were gone.


Blogger red one said...

Spin, it's hard to post an intelligent comment on poems.

So I'll just say I particularly like this one - the first verse reminds me of a personal experience, but I could never have put it in words like that. I also liked the Trains Aren't Convenient one.

I'll pop by to see what you're posting from time to time, but you may not get comments. Your poems will be fine without any inane wittering from me, I reckon!


11:37 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home