Monday, 28 November 2011

good night

(This was supposed to be a post with links in. 
But what do you know, I haven't found much to link to this past week. 
So have a gut-punching, spine-tingling, mercurial poem instead.)

I wanted to write "stay" 
on your sides, surround 
your bed with oceans 
of salt. 
I hope he folds you 
into a fox, loves you 
like a splintered arrow, 
brandishes the kill 
of your lips. 
May the bouquet 
of your hips wither. 
May the wolves 
forget your name. 

J. Bradley

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