We sat across the table.
he said, cut off your hands.
they are always poking at things.
they might touch me.
I said yes.
Food grew cold on the table.
he said, burn your body.
it is not clean and smells like sex.
it rubs my mind sore.
I said yes.
I love you, I said.
That’s very nice, he said
I like to be loved,
that makes me happy.
Have you cut off your hands yet?
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Docker by Seamus Heaney
- Dead Musicians by Siegfried Sassoon
- Eclogue:–The Best Man In The Vield by William Barnes
- Владимир Высоцкий – Космонавту Ю. Гагарину
- Hokku Poems in Four Seasons by Yosa Buson
- I Am Part Of The Load by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Of Three Or Four In The Room by Yehuda Amichai
- Motionless Body
- When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes (Sonnet 29) by William Shakespeare
- Metamorphoses Of The Moon by Sylvia Plath
- The Gardener LXIV: I Spent My Day by Rabindranath Tagore
- Peace poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- The Valley Of Dry Bones poem – Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry
- Kyrenaikos
- Flowers Of The Dust by John Oxenham
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
