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
- Наум Коржавин – От судьбы никуда не уйти
- O Little Root of a Dream by Paul Celan
- Taking yourself too seriously by Raj Arumugam
- Round by Weldon Kees
- Places and Men by William Allingham
- In Sutton Woods poem – Alfred Austin
- Robert Burns: Address To A Haggis:
- Lesson In Grammar by Vernon Scannell
- The ‘eathen by Rudyard Kipling
- Rise, O Days. by Walt Whitman
- Our Soul’s Gestation
- Beach Glass poem – Amy Clampitt poems | Poems and Poetry
- Sonet 38 by William Alexander
- Komori by T. Wignesan
- Михаил Лермонтов – В рядах стояли безмолвной толпой
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).
