Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 7
i think i might have a mole.

my teeth are dug out of their rows.
my tongue is pulled out at the root.

my nails are shriveled up thorns,
my wrists wilted bouquets of bones.

my ribs metal jaws which enclosed
something that bit off its foot.

my skull’s overturned,
seeds spilling out of the neck.

what is a corpse but a flower bed?
lenore
Written by
lenore
100
     BR Dragos and S Olson
Please log in to view and add comments on poems