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Jun 2012
my poor cones and rods
are victims of a sensual seclusion
when every hue begs to be seen
with cookie-cutter eyes
vacant as atheist heaven

mindless obedience and the train’s track
figure eight with fingers crossed—
we are putting the plea in “please”
tied crudely to the rails
as the engines
swift as rabbits in heat
decapitate us

and how long our last night lasted
i couldn’t say
before your teeth drew iron blood
a vibrant tongue
crippled crimson

from the moment we unzipped
i was speechless.
Lindsey Miller
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Lindsey Miller
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   Lindsey Miller
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