WHIRLWIND.

WHIRLWIND.

6/3/10

Heat and sweat

Your scent on my skin

Marked like a toy

Have you known all along?

The steam drags you inside

Through veins of ventilation;

Breathe new.

You run in my blood

Thick like an illness

I’m compelled to chase,

To catch

The cottonwood on your fingers:

Make a wish.

Trains in the village

Unmarked, unseen

We believe in the summer heat,

And the smell of your hair

Wrapped around my fingers.








© BLAYKE MORROW, 2010