Iris Balgaire Poems

The breaths you take
won't stop the commotion.
And the sunlight dancing
Around your speckled skin
...

Forget those dying birds,
broken winged mistress of mine.
Death has become an angry storm
but, daughter dear,
...

It was one of those
cool parties,
6 feet under the main streets,
in basements,
...

I want to love a poet.
To love their callused palms,
And worn fingers,
And their eyes,
...

Take me
and wrap me around
your finger
throw me in the rain
...