A body's not a wristwatch to unwind itself
       

A briolette, a mind is on the wing

The sap does not rise
Mamie does not rise.
Leaves do not turn.
Venus' cells messed up.
Mamie's cells messed up.
In the small of her back
they split.

Her pillowslip,
glossy pink, burst
so the feathers
a collar make.

Sheets tangle
at her hip.
And she is wound up again.

And a body's not a wristwatch to unwind itself.

Tweet

Copyright © 2012 Carolyn Hembree All rights reserved
from Skinny
Kore Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission