I want to fondle the cold, plastic phone,
But, what if, after it rings, my voice rings true?
It would pull back, elastic, then release
A storm of arrows tipped with stigma
That come breathlessly down on the ring of fire
Encasing me and you.
YOU ARE READING
Juvenalia Miscellanea
PoetryExperimental poems I wrote about growing up, being different, coming to terms with my religious beliefs, friendship troubles, all sorts really! I made the cover image on wordle.net
