Where She Was
A splash of gold
lines the doors to her soul
Intelligence burning
like a flashlight
through a keyhole
into a dark room.
Wrinkly nose reflex
when you score a hit
and your minds sing together
Her voice her voice her voice
captured, a poor portrait
of a goddess.
Copyright © Chris Fortin | Year Posted 2015
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