The sunrise stabs me gold; I wake up wet
and hot. For people whose lives I glancing know,
I sleepy-swype up brunches, always forget
the sunrise stabs me. Gold, I wake up. Wet
and tired eyes at dawn, Iím slick with sweat
and scared, reach out with talk of food although
the sunrise stabs me gold. I wake up wet
and hot for people whose lives I glancing know.
Thanks to The Writers' Greenhouse for the prompt to write about a triolet about lust, even though it ended up mostly just the lust to see people!
See the new NaPoWriMo poems as they pop up, complete with pics of the handwritten drafts, and suggest titles for them, via whatever social media you call home:
All my poems on this site are now #FreeForPoets to play with, to write hybrid forms such as glosas, coupling poems, golden shovels, acrostics, centos, and erasures. Full permissions here: #FreeForPoets.