Making Bread and Other Food For Thought
On and on we meander
in might-have-beens:
the black spray-painted bed
in two-room efficiency apartment:
your roan lion mane of hair spread out
on white sheets like a lace of sea
we swim upon,
soft stones lapping one another
as the gurgling, artesian gush
from a brief sheath of time
drips from you, primal amoebas
rising and falling
from a froth of flaxen sea,
a yeast of life
in the unlit oven.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
