Warm, Pointed Poison Poem by Charles Malcolm
Warm, Pointed Poison
I feel that faint burn again.
Harder to explain
than things learned on LSD
and whatever's forgotten with time.
Something in that pointed poison.
I remember the way that her hipbone felt
against my fingertips.
How she mimicked the straw
as it avoided my lips.
How we'd meet at the Mix.
How she'd call me her friend.
Oh,
how I feel that faint burn again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 2:12:04 AM # 1.0.0.1119
