Stooped low enough
I could still see myself
In the shiny surface of
Your pointed boots
Lick me!
They say
Your husky voice whispers
Blow me!
Your imperious hands
Want me put into place
My back still knows how to bend to the inevitable
But my steeled spine refuses all compliance
My dry mouth denies you entry
My tongue refuses to probe your name
From now on I keep myself to myself
Blood heart mind spittle and all
You write so passionately with stark realism, Ulrike. It is sometimes hard for me to find the words to describe how your poems make me feel. Thank you. Love and all good things to you,
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
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