Oct 2018
The summer freckles the
boys, tucking in the grasses
in their masses, forgetting
what their mothers sang. Their
love burns in blood-stream blaze,
becomes heat and nothing else and
nothing else. Our sun set late, so they pray for consenting
girls that feed wrists into freckled hands to
brand themselves, bruised and brown.
boys, tucking in the grasses
in their masses, forgetting
what their mothers sang. Their
love burns in blood-stream blaze,
becomes heat and nothing else and
nothing else. Our sun set late, so they pray for consenting
girls that feed wrists into freckled hands to
brand themselves, bruised and brown.
A response to the line "The grasses forgetting their blaze, and consenting to brown" from 'A Sunset of the City' by Gwendolyn Brooks. The line is embedded in the last words of each line.
