Friday, February 22, 2008


Little glass pen that I chew on,
wound my expression with
wet closeness of cut lips.
To answer him
with sticky kisses.

Undo the corset of
diminishing faith,
unsigned, unsighed,
unsounded air, that
fills my mouth with gifts.
Sealed and forgotten in pink bows;

the colour of hearts which are
not organs behind our ribs.
Not the liquid which passes
through carrying the
mineral of my will,
beating my submission,
keeping my feelings
and thoughts
pumping together

in a bloody rush of
a tongued faltering that
braves fire.
Lick the cinders
from my white skin,

desires relics are
slipping the leash with disguised teeth,
to announce the beginning is over.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hi Amanda
Love your poem the style ,the way you express your feeling the exquisite words you use such as..
"It's the color of the desert
stealing our shadows in funnels of dust"
I love it, i write also in english and Huungarian also.
keep on going