Of course, your songs in their bright red melodious coats I jump <br />into the pocket where your right hand goes, play with your fingers <br />like they're my own private army of clutches. <br /> <br />I do not know which doctor it was, but it must have been one, who <br />plucked out both my eyes and sewed them to your tongue so all I <br />could see when you opened your mouth was daylight. <br /> <br />moving across your lips. This same surgeon, I believe, must have <br />been made of miracles for he managed to clip my ears to the <br />insides of your cheeks like two pink wings. <br /> <br />A few tender beats in the wind of your breath and I could, if I <br />wanted, unleash the bird in your throat.<br /><br />Lisa Zaran<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sanctuary-18/
