by Lyn Lifshin
Don’t let me think
of the one who
poured chocolate
all over where
today it feels best
to be left unsaid.
Dark chocolate,
dark as his eyes.
I, who can lure
most with words,
with verbs for
fingers, stumble
as he moves close
going into flirt
mode, still wear-
ing his taste as I
stop breathing
*Lyn's website: http://www.lynlifshin.com/books.htm
November 18, 2009
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November
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- WHEN I GET HER LETTER
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