Photo-finish (11/5)
Horse's eye
Pool of oil filling with light
Now they are mocking a blur
Now they are etched on your corona
They are nostrils
Holes into pure
Unblinking moments dripping
Melting currants
Hyphenated chess pieces
Covered in felt that burns
Sienna tails
Now they winnow the fields
Now they are driving too hard
No comments:
Post a Comment