Set List Poem 16/03/2015

You’re asking me about my vices while you spark hand-fire,
I’m hiding four layers into Dad’s jacket, my skin a magnet

to the passing train,
my body, a tear in light,
leaving silhouettes,

a dark burn on the rose-bleached pavement swallowing the rain.
I hang my heart-shape answer on the hook in your finger.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s