Posted Monday, April 29th, 2013
Slide along a razorís edge
on an armpit, mowing hair like wheat.
Wash the blade, lift your arms, let the fuzzy open mouth breathe freely in the summer heat.
Bodies shaking off coats borne through centuries of manís dark winter,
now skin free in the liberating sun that once the fog of fear could hide.
In an age of changelings, one being combined, man/woman
Our bodies cleansed of tattoos of hair that was said to keep us apart.
Comments [post a comment]
Posted by Saleh Razzouk [ firstname.lastname@example.org
] on Monday, April 29th, 2013 at 1:23 PM
Good piece. New one in fact.
I enjoyed it.