I Became Your Brier
How attentively we listen
Paused in breath
Two arrows on a lily pad
You pluck my flesh, I get rough
Just enough to cause lightning
My hands rub your berry flavor
I bury in your burrows
You stem a vowel and stand up
Stumbling into my guillotine
Then, with the shift of the moon
You turn the tides
Pulling me to the ceiling,
You pout with a lip
Asking where I hid the knives
I tell you, and like a storybook girl,
You half faint with a wink, saying,
'Carry me down' -
So I pluck you like an eglantine
And become your brier.
|