vulgar tension
Posted to Poetry
by Tim Cunningham on 2002-02-21 11:38:00
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.
