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
- Алишер Навои – Когда, тоскуя по тебе
- A Green Stream. by Wang Wei
- the_dormouse_and_the_doctor.html
- Birds heavenly by Sunil Sharma
- Optimist poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- In Imitation of Cowley : The Garden poem – Alexander Pope
- My Mother On An Evening In Late Summer by Mark Strand
- About Wedding Dress
- Вера Павлова – Вопрос ребра
- A Boston Ballad, 1854. by Walt Whitman
- Владимир Маяковский – Братство РОСТА БН
- One Whisper of the Beloved by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Oh, Is It Love? poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Purity by Rabindranath Tagore
- Михаил Кузмин – Зеленая птичка
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).
