I Dance The Orange
Evenings stretched over couches
In rooms you thought no one
Would enter.
Those long taut hours
Out of breath.

Momma, you can drag me around.
You get me a warm womblike ache
up my spine,
Across my chest,
My tongue.
A peach,
A smell.

Hold me like a favorite dress.

There are still a few moments
Of forever in these arms I am singing you into.



home lyrics mp3's news things poetry links contact





Shown: