charcoal black and dust
feels like blown grit
in my eyes
you lead me
blindfolded
I hold your hand
rubbing the tip of my fingers
on the rough
unironed
linen of your shirt
wishing for lavender spray
and a high setting of steam.
KD 4/8/13
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The image is
Drawing Hands, 1948 by M. C. Escher
I love this! You describe it in perfect poetical plumb...
ReplyDeleteIncisive and observant; well written...
ReplyDeleteLove where you went with the pic... your focus on the texture...
ReplyDeleteoverwhelmed!!! thank you..x
ReplyDeleteThe steam sure is there..well done, profound!
ReplyDeleteThere speaks a compulsive ironer! LOL
ReplyDeleteWonderful writing..
ReplyDeleteexistentialism
Amazing imagery!
ReplyDeleteMay your wish for the steam be granted,
ReplyDeleteWonderful words! Thank you, Kay.
ReplyDeleteCutting off his hands should ensure he never touches another woman again.....cheers Kay, enjoyed it
ReplyDeleteNothing wrong with wishing for a high setting of steam.
ReplyDeletelavender spray? I might just take up ironing as I love the scent. I will be on the lookout for it now. :)
ReplyDeleteA delightful write Kay!! :-)
ReplyDelete