A Line of Twelve Black Marbles

like sinful drops of ink
lit low from the front
so they streak long shadows
all across the pale moon of a
girl reclining behind them.
Those dozen tiny bellies,
pregnant and bright,
remind me what it's like
to be a shadow on her thigh.

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly.

By using this site, you agree to abide by the Site Policies.
This website © Gabriel Gadfly 2009-2010

Home | About | Poetry | Blog | Store