Litkicks Message Board Archive

vulgar tension

Posted to Poetry




She lay,
sculptured on our wedding bed
her body encaptures all,
it's a prison men
would commit a crime for

most are floating like vanity
inches above a floor
hoovering ghosts on idle ground

One arm,
open the door
escape and face insecurity

but vividness revives
in personal fear,
not in passionate glory.