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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4231 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Sunday Afternoon Graeme Mullen Your hair glows warmly in the candlelight you smile and say: this time last year, inside this church, I fucked a stranger on the altar And a flame goes out in my head and now it is all you and your stranger, twisted around each other like rope, flicking tongues, hearts burning wicks, your body laid out like sacrifice and the small of your back curving defiantly in the dark I look to your eyes expecting the apple green of adder eyes, But they are deep and blue and true, maybe deeper than before? like icecaps, or uncut opals, or the stained glass window above that sings light onto the hard backs of the pews |
