don’t read this

by September 28, 2012 0 comments

with tongues we licked
our names into the water
like the dimples
near the bottom of your back
with nails we scratched
our deaths into the sun
and the softest section
of your inner thigh
by moonwash we wrapped
our lives together
dying to unveil our hidden limbs
singing like a tenpenny choir
flattened by a herd of hammers –
claw hammers on the run

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