Tuesday, July 6, 2010

In My Letter

by Chris Middleman

I chose not to elaborate
on the dream I had of you

Where our skin was lit by
static on a rabbit-eared TV

Where I clutched your
knees as if I were falling

and held your legs apart,
intent on making you writhe

like a fever-struck child
My Summer to Remember,

the ring you wear lacks
any magic to ward off

the things you know
I'm capable of imagining

1 comment:

  1. AnonymousJuly 07, 2010

    I like this. sexual and romantic both