Indian BurnA Poem by Kaela Craven Not sure of the origin of this phrase or how politically correct it is, but that's the name of the poem so I decided to keep it... This feels like a rug burn to me - Both sharp and dull Rubbing my flesh. I feel like they wrapped it around me And twisted Until my skin is hot and pink And shuddering.
© 2008 Kaela Craven |
Stats
118 Views
Added on August 10, 2008 Last Updated on September 18, 2008 Author
Kaela CravenTucson, AZAbout"Incantations, spells, rituals, what are they? They're poems. So what's a poet? He's a Shaman." "She died laughing. She died in ecstasy. She died with her eyes wide open." Well, if I had to do .. more..Writing
|
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing