Friday, April 5, 2019

Poem 2.

Borrowed flannel pants
a piano untuned.
raining saffron beetles 
on a gentrified roof.
Brown eyes that 
shined like glass.
Eros used to be your neighbor.
He stole all of your jars
and refilled them with 
rusted cello strings.
Tossed coins down a wishing well.
In prayer that the gold gems 
embedded in the canvas of my skin 
would be enough for you?
Or me.  








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