Er
being chased by knives and flowers.
it's 3 o'clock in the morning and I have a empty bed.
I carry voices around my body the way a Voo Doo Priest
carries bones around his neck.
Voices sound like falling cases of glass
thrown
from
a window.
Copyright © Frank Penicaro | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment