Sunday 5 February 2012

NOTEBOOK

i touch my book of words/touch my naked girl

clothe her in scribbled ink and paint a council tower of song

the cover is rich/the paper is luxurious
i touch its ribs slowly with vivid and surreal 
trembling 
finger 
tips

and 
a sudden silence/some awkward relief
fills my hero-coward soul
and 
the 
dusty
still
room


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