Thursday, April 02, 2009


White, cool walls
hurt and soothe, what
lies is white--

Worn as I am, out
within four walls which
is enough, I am

propped up by these right
angles, bright angels'
warnings--a fornicating

near the ceiling.
Reeling from light, I try
to hide me but they

flaunt their bodiless
knot in lullaby--naughty
naught--they taunt-tease

and scorn in skin-envy
the way I will not, hidden in hands
ever get my body at God

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