(no subject)
This poem's in EG magazine:
My sister held a star within her fist,
And warm, wet summer evenings,
We took it out
To wash our youthful eyes in its glow
Underneath the fortress of our sheets.
I watched it so close
Sometimes
I can still feel the heat,
The sharp edges, the wistfulness
When I look up at the burning sky.
My sister held a star within her fist,
And warm, wet summer evenings,
We took it out
To wash our youthful eyes in its glow
Underneath the fortress of our sheets.
I watched it so close
Sometimes
I can still feel the heat,
The sharp edges, the wistfulness
When I look up at the burning sky.