Hands

In lack of
red,
I paint
you in
blue. I do
put
away the knife
in the chest
of drawers.
The clothes are
clean
in the closet
under the bed
old
photographs bits of
dust &sweat sighs and moans
are withering,
in boxes.
like long not heard Bach's
toccata.
Staccato fucking and
kissing miracles
two familiar
faces are, stuck in
the boxes.
Here,
long
nothing's happening.

poem by Afrodita Nikolova
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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