A hushed something
Her skin is muddy earth
I'd gladly play in.
I would risk—for
one night inside.
She's sitting next to me,
I ask her for a pen
& paper
to write this poem.
Her perfume,
tended under my nose,
stirs up
all kinds of bad.
|
3
favs |
1182 views
6 comments |
48 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
Man, what a moment it was. LOL, that's all I can say about this.
Other stories by Roberto C. Garcia
Tags
This story has no tags.
Groups
-
Poets and Artists
Public group78 members -
Poetry
Public group169 members -
LITSNACK, an on-line literary journal
Public group110 members -
New York City
Public group107 members -
Ramshackle Review
Public group49 members -
Electric Literature
Public group238 members -
Monkeybicycle
Public group262 members -
PANK
Public group307 members -
Metazen
Public group131 members -
Prairie Schooner
Public group77 members -
kaffe in katmandu
Public group69 members -
blue five notebook
Public group64 members -
fwriction : review
Public group56 members -
Noir
Public group71 members -
The Doctor T. J. Eckleburg Review
Public group37 members -
Cervena Barva Press
Public group71 members -
The Southeast Review
Public group46 members -
The Brooklyner
Public group17 members -
Ibbetson Street Press
Public group35 members -
Thunderclap! Press
Public group54 members -
Negative Suck
Public group58 members -
Atticus Books
Public group43 members
Comments
You must
log in
to post comments.
This is lovely.
I've been in this situation so many times. So many. Ha.
Thanks guys! Glad you like it.
Nice! A delightful little encounter skillfully rendered.
Faveroo!
tasty, tiny tidbit
fave