Ringworm

It

Tunnels bone, consum’d taste

Saves your place—dies (and

I did), trac’d finger to surface—

Again lays with

Tunnel’d-girl, fogg’d age

 

If

It had liv’d, nothing wanton

As mine, nothing plac’d in

Mind; for darling stage, this war

Soak’d of feint and jab—orbs, O’

Color’d orbs, vicious intent

 

It

Slabs hours, complac’nt mak’r

Bloody coward—she cries, sluts

Of her eyes, stops the slap O’ wet

Lash against eyelids, each—other, for

Hours on end—makes a quitter of me—and she did.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s