Monday, September 25, 2006

does this poem need more?...

Game On
after Jack Vettriano

I arch back against
the lightpost, vertical
metal creases, bulb dimming. He
is kissing me—his tongue
a pack of plush tobacco, his hands
anything but ash.

The occasional car
passes (three a.m., nearly
empty road) and I sneak
a look over his shoulder,
smirk at the turning
heads of passengers, drivers.

I am unashamed of my fingers
grinding the stubble
of his chin into ashes, his
hands sparking embers
on my thighs.


Blogger ziegenhagen said...

I likes it...but for some reason the repeating of 'ash' breaks up it's flow for me. Of course I think both images are incredible, so I have no suggestions...but maybe try and work a smoke image in there?

11:41 AM | Permalink  
Blogger One Drunken Poet said...

I like it as well. Some cigs, some ash, some ass...

Where's the're leaving me high and dry. Wondering

1:06 AM | Permalink  

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