Sunday, 19 July 2009

Milk

It is a privilege
To thirst for
That glass of cold milk
Kept in the fridge
Frosted by waiting
Slippery between
My dry summer hands
Marking the whiteness

Wednesday, 8 July 2009

Language lost

The word eludes me,
sliding down the bannister surrounded
by phrases grinning
like idioms.

I grasp for it now,
hands encased in rubber gloves, yellow
fingering the black
iron skeleton
left behind.

Peer Review Section