USA

lpweiss@earthlink.net 

Writing

I hear radio waves. I suck my breasts for words.
Each paragraph I pry open with a return.

My feet touch leaves. The tickling makes me laugh.
Gossip about the sun’s first kiss of a bare branch.

Everything ripples. First comes feeling, sound.
Then the act of putting it down

without ignoring the sword, or faking what needs to be said.
Honestly, sometimes I’d rather be in bed

with you, me, and our four walls.

© All Copyright, Lenore Weiss.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.