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
- Invern poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Irish Love Song by Margaret Widdemer
- Владимир Высоцкий – Я был слесарь шестого разряда
- All Things Will Die poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Sonnet L by William Shakespeare
- Batty by Shel Silverstein
- On Observing Some Names Of Little Note Recorded In The Biographia Britannica by William Cowper
- A Question by Robert Frost
- A Greek Girl poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- Алишер Навои – Он любить мне запрещает
- Ghosts of a Lunatic Asylum by Stephen Vincent Benet
- happiness.html
- Incident Characteristic Of A Favorite Dog by William Wordsworth
- Finding Your Creative Self
- The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart by William Butler Yeats
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).
