As the sewer sewed. the needle wrote a song.
flicking lights. and golden nails at each others necks.
the shame of their gloating
red to our sight.
a string held for dear life.
a clinging sign of need.
the needle falls
and to its catcher, it gives a poke.
a needle who falls needs not to be caught.
unless you are prepared and willing to feel its prick
No comments:
Post a Comment