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- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Refrigerator in Hell
Poem Info
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Click hereAnger shimmers the air around you
I crawl into the desert of our bed
wraith a cool pulse against your skin.
Your words are fire.
“So now you’re rigid?”
I mouth an ice sickle scythe.
“It’s chemical not emotional.”
Your turn to burn,
mine to freeze.
Tomorrow we will exchange places,
and you can be the refrigerator in hell.
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1 Comments
lorencinoover 15 years agoA touch of life
A touch of life depicted with a few deft strokes. Marvellous.
