Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Poem 163-Running Through the Sprinklers

Running Through the Sprinklers


It is dark and cold outside.

My body is hot, my
skin is pulsating.

You have lit the
fuse and run away, unavailable
for the explosion
you have masterminded.

I escape into the air
too scolded for
resuscitation.


Engulf and cool me and my burning soul.

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