The Freckle Conspiracy

By freckles

collarbone

Desire hangs on for dear life
on the window sill of the collarbone
of the one I love
And a glimmering shimmer
of sweat gathers into a pool in her palm
from a well in her wrist

And the only thing that speaks the truth
is the eloquence of passing time
the spoken word is a jacket too tight.

-Poi Dog Pondering, Collarbone

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