Dec 9, 2010

sometimes i write poetry.

are we more than circus trainers?

trust is
resting your head
in the lion’s mouth

begging him
not to bite

its so easy to feel
enamel, sharp white
crushing through
your temple

trained but not

savannah lingers
on his breath
the place his pride
still lurks
golden and graceful

still you pray
let this one
be a lamb

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