Wednesday, December 21, 2005


At My Breast By Phyllis Capello

His hair is a velvet phrase
A brown nap on his round head,
he drinks
and is drunk in my arms.

My nipple like the nib of the pen
writes a poem inside him.

His hand
rests in my palm; a tiny starfish
brought to the shore of my skin.
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posted by Wendy at 10:38 AM


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