Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2013
Men become boys in the cradle of my lap, comfortable
  as I twist the tufted curls behind their soft ears,
  and I wonder how easy it would be
to cleave them in two with a rusted fish hook.
glass can
Written by
glass can  San Francisco
(San Francisco)   
587
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems