Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015
I bit my tongue
when my tongue
was a cloud.

take cover, bones,
says my daughter
dancing.

I crushed my son
like a gift
and offered
god
my tactile
outlook.

stay small, future.  

persuade
a peephole
to show
some blood.
Barton D Smock
Written by
Barton D Smock  48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)   
312
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems