I stared at the
Long black hair
Stretched like
Calligraphy over your rug
Just before you smeared a salve
On each eye,
Like pencil over paper,
Rubbing, tracing a leaf underneath,
Then somehow
A new skin slipped
Itself over
And I lost
Arms and legs,
But your tongue was forked.
2 Comment(s)
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Betty Hayes Albright
Great imagery – wow! Succinct – my favorite kind of poetry. Striking last line!
jacsprat
Thanks. My world religion class has had me thinking about how some, usually oppressed or downtrodden, people are deceived into believing that they are the evil one, the snake in the garden, who is the source of everything cursed, ugly, and painful.