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
- Psalm 82 poem – John Milton poems
- Ancient Music poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Ireland With Emily poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry
- Владимир Бенедиктов – С могучей страстию в мучительной борьбе
- Огюст Барбье – Кьяйя
- Николай Карамзин – Гимн слепых
- Владимир Британишский – Снились двое товарищей по Салехарду
- Sonnet III: With how sad steps by Sir Philip Sidney
- Women And Roses by Robert Browning
- Must Work by Steve Downes
- Hymn To Death poem – Alfred Austin
- Lines Inscribed under Fergusson’s Portrait by Robert Burns
- Teddy Bear
- Владимир Маяковский – Ты обут? Тебя обувает фабрика… (РОСТА №601)
- Rivulose poem – A. R. Ammons poems | Poetry Monster
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).
