Sunday, April 11, 2010

Sweat


Sweat


Horizon to horizon, it melts me, the sun does.
Sunday to Sunday, I bend to gather what will
never
belong to me or mine.

Water to water, from my brow to this leaf.
Cell to cell, soaking. I am crumpled, working
ever
thirsty, dripping wine.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

1 comment:

Brett Wakelin said...

I like this very much. A little e.e. cummings with the creative use of carriage returns/whitespace.