by
Melanie Anne Phillips
background music for this poem
1.
Greasy hands embrace
the frigid chalice,
drawing closer, satisfaction,
toward the moistened,
anxious lips.
2.
When there's no
night, where will
all the moon
flowers go?
3.
Slipping through a
crack, the ivy easily
eludes the
gardener.
4.
Not
what we're
supposed to
be.
5.
Pip squeak!
Can sleep now....
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Copyright 2003 Melanie Anne Phillips