- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Challenge
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Wind and anger torn, tattered clouds flee the moon,
combating halogen standards
to silver the black-wet hardtop,
as lank tendrils whip painfully
about his eyes.
Bright scalding, rage flows freely
to bathe and chill an uncovered breast.
Careless of the eyeless gaze,
he begs the answer of the roaring dark.
Anonymous heads come and go,
to glance shamefully at his open grief.
He demands of another "Can I do it?"
"Yes, she would be pleased."
And later years, he sits,
this time to watch
and, bravely as he can
searches for that last beat,
in order that they can know
when finally they are alone.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozabout 17 years agoAnger & rage, then grief borne through all the years; deeply moving piece.
LeBrozabout 17 years agoAnger & rage, then grief borne through all the years; deeply moving piece.
