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Untitled Poem by Katarzyna Surma March 12, 2012

Posted by vscorpiozine in New Poets.
Tags: ,

Untitled (to S.P.)

on our walk we stop and suddenly
the moon is trapped between two towers of an old church
you show me lights buried underground
hiding just a few inches below the surface of the earth
you uncover them with your foot
we just stand there not saying a word
and the ground I press against
prepares for struggle

later you strip me
my bruised legs
the bruise on my left thigh like the face of John Lennon
your small room, the nervous energy, a fantastic trap
like the inside of a sea crustation
or artillery fire pinning my flesh to a wall
I am the insect and you the one who drives the needle

the pleasure granted momentarily turns with air
now passing through the window
now outside against the ground

and the ground receives without a struggle




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