this is how you touch other women
the grasscutter’s wife, the lime burner’s daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume.
what good is it
to be the lime burner’s daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in an act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of scar.
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler’s wife. Smell me.
“And this is how the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper”
- The Hollow Men
(one of the most complex poems i have ever read)
I wish I could be a book,
A dusty hidden book.
But my book holds secrets;
Inside are pressed flowers.
Books to the ceiling,
Books to the sky,
My pile of books is a mile high.
How I love them! How I need them!
I’ll have a long beard by the time I read them.
A stack of these would make me the happiest kitten