for Vladimir Nabokov
we turn
to each other
in a wet kiss
the scent
of her tousled hair
liquid moonlight
splashing her face
the small o
of her crimson mouth
as I unzip her jeans
she wears her panties
with a man's eye in mind
her young body
contains a life story
as much as her brain
the conversation
of our sweaty bodies
she asks me
what remains of this
behind-closed-doors relationship
Atlas Poetica, 30, 2017
A Room of My Own: Freedom and Mass Graves Tanka
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*Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words*, LV: "mass graves"
hosting Passover
the festival of freedom ...
a neighbor's TV
blasts news of the mass graves
f...