Monday, 16 August 2010
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
William Jack Harper
My hand
Palm down
Travels
The breadth
Of your stomach
Held aloft
By the soft fuzz
Of hair
Raised by static
Looking
For an anchor
On which
I can stay
Finding none
We pull to each other
Too close
Too hard
Attempting union
Some other way
And as your hand
Misses mine
Your shock
Of auburn hair
Flashes once
Caught on wind
We grasp
Brace ourselves
And fall into it
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
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