we go out and dance,
pull leaves by the fistful,
weave them into crowns
that hold the hair over
our eyes
his sweet fingers,
a song of bonesssssticky
and dripping with honey
watery eyes and
cheeks, flowery
a sudden light from the street
flooding across the floor
like spit milk
where he sleeps, still
as crumpled as paper
after a hard day’s
flower thieving
Rebecca Isgrove
(c) Rebecca Isgrove 2007
- Editor
Rebecca Isgrove is a guest “Auckland Poet”
Congratualations, Rebecca – your poem is the highest ranked poem on the site for Edition 4 (most readers). Well done.
Weave Hair…
Is it expensive getting hair loss treatment? Has anyone tried hair loss shampoos?…
Miraculous verse, very beautiful!