he is warm in body only.
with lips so dry
they'd crack at the feel of love.
i'd breathe life into him
had he not hurt me so with
nails that sharp,
and breath so violent.
he is sand not spoiled
by water and life and rain.
to look at him, is to be void of hope
for he is nothing as far as eyes will show.
peel the skin from his overdried flesh.
rip vein by vein of spikes and tumbleweed.
face storms of sand stirring
moving
fighting
to keep you from the world's best kept secret.
a lining not silver but green.
you'll never be thirsty again.
A contest entry
- The Desert by Danna Hobart.
300 points, ended August 24, 2007, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
This is brilliant. Your imagery is beautiful, your metaphor, fantastic. Thank you so much for entering.
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