ophelia re-possessedour bodies are mirrors.
listlessly, we taste the bottom of the lake
(the very bottom, where it hurts the most)
tongues entwined in dark, wet sand.
the salt of your lips; a dim fever.
a reflection of your scales
within your skin
we wash our sin
with the drowning lily pads, petals
the wounded siren
tastes the gash of the sea
(the gash inside of me)
Poetry by anguisette
Read 869 times
Written on 2010-02-19 at 07:06
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