3 Poems 3
i feel my body covered with dust
you celler my odor of wetness
dragging down wooden steps
my dirty windows
i hear my tomorrow
coming back
to look on
while i stand
to go underground
myself
a hidden floor to lie on
Nancy Ellison
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3 Poems 2
weed that hides rock
white deceiving chalk
could crumble under dead pine
i would risk those cliffs down to sea
white first
my eyes have greeted you
my tongue and lips felt your chalk white
no kiss that touch
i have come from algier
my son
the heat is here still
with us
where boats stop
my son dead in white cunt sand
could scream white dust
i can smell your scream marseille
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