Untitled #4

By On April 7, 2009 · 2 Comments
eyes closed, the sound of a curtain being drawn echoes head bowed in supplication, shoulders rounded and arms bent with fists clenched under her chin standing beneath the lash of a thousand points on her bare skin pale white turns crimson… shoulders straightened, release begins in her center radiating outward head tipped back, moist lips parted slightly and fingers caress hair backward from her forehead feeling the heat on her exposed back as the lash subsides.
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  • Rick

    this is an excellent poem. I look forward to reading it again in your first hardcover book of Poetry.

    • Nil17

      Thank you very much. This particular poem was effortless. It just flowed out of me almost without conscious thought. If I ever do publish my first hardcover book of poetry I shall be sure to dedicate this entry to you. ;)

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