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
- Tears, Idle Tears poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Trial by Ruth Padel
- Wirers by Siegfried Sassoon
- about emptiness… by Marina Cecilia Kohon
- Monument by Satish Verma
- Sonnet 105: Let not my love be called idolatry by William Shakespeare
- Brink Of Eternity by Rabindranath Tagore
- Василий Курочкин – Как не вскрикнуть тут с поэтом
- A Spring Carol poem – Alfred Austin
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Ребенку
- The Boy by Vinko Kalinić
- Dialogue Song—Philly and Willy by Robert Burns
- Fleeting Thoughts by Mac McGovern
- October Journey by Margaret Walker
- Владимир Корнилов – Слово
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).
