Itch

Itch those places where I wish to scratch, where which
ever edge grates grateful flesh matches weather
suffered by poisoned geckos, batches of birds

draped in plumage. Snatch me down like grapes
with your teeth and tongue. We’ll patch which
ever thatched roofs leak with sticky fur,
bark and leaves; latched, scalding, marked.

Advertisements

Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

2 thoughts on “Itch

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s