5 A.M.

5 A.M.,
night fades
tiny words jump into space. Holes in the morning
swallow the gap between mouth and opening mouth.
Discordant music-
The words meet in mid-air,
Sharpened into dawn swords.
You lick your lips,
they bleed.
I wish
My tongue could cut so deep as yours
POETRY LINKS
CONTEMPORARY POETRY RESEARCH CENTRE

Leave a Reply