Emily Kendal Frey

 
The Greek islands are falling
into my bed again, and you
can do nothing to save us
Your giant
teeth shave the air
like a carnival
and we are wandering
children, still,
with open satchels and the bright
corpuscles of want
strong on us
When meeting
a person do you think,
This is the person
who may lead me
Usually when I see
your face I get a hard on
for those ancient columns
All the little ivy
growing where it can
between the cracks

Posted 12/21/11

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