Ten fingers
went to tend her
garden of buttons:
The right hand kisses cheeks
with Mr. **** and then greets
The Twins with a tender twist,
as the **** on the door when
He comes,
and we lay atop each
other to be a team—of beams
of light strobing across some sheets
of ice, maybe—with steadily raised stats
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
Ten fingers
went to tend her
garden of buttons:
The right hand kisses cheeks
with Mr. **** and then greets
The Twins with a tender twist,
as the **** on the door when
He comes,
and we lay atop each
other to be a team—of beams
of light strobing across some sheets
of ice, maybe—with steadily raised stats
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