Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2017
little ruth

purple lipped
dot eyed
tire slicing
lithe and never lucid

tells you what to do in that buttoned up feather whisper voice of hers
                    laugh until you cough up blood
                               cry but do not yield
                                         pass through the enemy’s hands like a ship from a storm
                                                          roiling and twisting turning writhing frothing pitter patter
rain slicked heartbeat
drip fast
and far
fast and far and free

it drips to the stomps of their heavy feet
“why don’t you run like us?”
h b r
Written by
h b r
Please log in to view and add comments on poems