the little dots,
the little dots,
the clever tasks
of hit-me-nots,
the flavor chase
of over-cradle tones,
the rounded bore,
the tasted lore,
the keenest sweet
of evenscore,
the purgey smile
of freshly-rattled bones,
will leave us here,
with blanketsmear,
the slowest breath
of hold-me-dear,
though room reverbed
with slender, ghosted moans.
the little dots
of eyelid knots
will crest and lumber
sandy cots,
we roll the night
like sunny,
bleaching,
stones.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 6:42 AM UTC
the little dots,
the little dots,
the clever tasks
of hit-me-nots,
the flavor chase
of over-cradle tones,
the rounded bore,
the tasted lore,
the keenest sweet
of evenscore,
the purgey smile
of freshly-rattled bones,
will leave us here,
with blanketsmear,
the slowest breath
of hold-me-dear,
though room reverbed
with slender, ghosted moans.
the little dots
of eyelid knots
will crest and lumber
sandy cots,
we roll the night
like sunny,
bleaching,
stones.
Request permission to use this poem