No Gentle Thing
Love is no gentle thing--
it indicates from the sky,
prods at the deaf carnation of my mouth.
It bleeds into the shape of one dead-dog cloud with white puffy tongue,
a limp but bold obstacle,
a flying tumor on the air.
april michelle bratten 2011
it indicates from the sky,
prods at the deaf carnation of my mouth.
It bleeds into the shape of one dead-dog cloud with white puffy tongue,
a limp but bold obstacle,
a flying tumor on the air.
april michelle bratten 2011
