July 12, 2011

I am taking a poetry-writing course online, so I’m afraid I have to punish you with what is produced. The first assignment was to write an autobiographical poem, and I did so in between classes today.

Slipping through angled, golden-skinned streets,
She is pink-hipped, wide-haired,
Her heart spins stories of
salted shorelines and bearded men
even as she holds silver chopsticks
in her surprising,
small hands.

One comment

  1. “pink-hipped” is genius.

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