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
- Fortune-Hunter, The – Canto 3 by William Somervile
- The Voice of Woman by Shahida Latif
- Владимир Маяковский – Понедельник – субботник
- The Lost Pleiad by William Gilmore Simms
- Михаил Лермонтов – Бартеневой
- Home Sick
- Sonnet 72: O, lest the world should task you to recite by William Shakespeare
- The Harvest Bow by Seamus Heaney
- Gentlmen-Rankers by Rudyard Kipling
- Ольга Берггольц – Не знаю, не знаю, живу
- Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns by Robert Burns
- Николай Заболоцкий – Меркнут знаки зодиака
- A Do’set Sale by William Barnes
- Aerialist by Sylvia Plath
- OFF-LIMITS by Satish Verma
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).
