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Linoleum Whisper
November 21, 2013
The scintillas of infection,
contusions of the heart
items brought to my attention
lost until second thought
Those words they beat and broke you dead
iron fists of verse
burdens tied and wrapped with lead
cadance toward a hearse.
You’re painted black with tarnished gold
a plea lost in static
a brushstroke bruised in my own hold
artwork in the attic.
We’re left biting chalk-stained sidewalks
with bloodshot eyes slammed shut
with lustful hands who long to talk
not with lips but uppercuts.
© Leidy E., Spartanburg, SC
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