Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2021
The grass is sage and fawn
where the flaxen lipstick
ruckles through the brick
to neck the lawn:
I love you most.
Here by this chimney is a dried
crepuscule where the sun died,
as we made our champagne toast,
then took the southern stairs
to launch the ******* dark,
& leave kisses like postmarks
in little blooded pairs.
There is no second place
to your coup de grace.
Evan Stephens
Written by
Evan Stephens  44/M/DC
(44/M/DC)   
225
         South City Lady, LAICEY, Michael Stefan, ju, --- and 4 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems