Bull-whip
Blood traces feathered lines into scarred skin,
Tracing the hip bones like roots searching wildly for earth to cling on to.
Fine-grain sand paper takes to the edges of everything,
Smoothing the edges, buffing till the inside flowers through
Cow-hide
Cracking as it snaps between the trees
Even the sea-walls shiver, holding the ocean close
Imploring the sun to hang just a little longer
On the horizon line
Author notes
Wind Chill
A contest entry
- weathering the elements by Jersene.
2100 points, ended February 18, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Let me know, really, truly, what you think of it...
Comments
-
this is definitely raw, and leaves the feeling, the hurt of a windchill. I can almost feel my heart being torn out. Well done. Thanks for entering my contest.
Adding your comment:
