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  P. Michael Mastrofrancesco  
   
   

Liquid


You are water, cool
against my skin, a drizzle
that colors sunlight, tantalizes
the afternoon breeze.

I am thirsty, wanting to drink.
You slip through my fingers,
trail down my forearms.
You are this way.

Like a jungle guide, I will cut
tall grass, wrap it round
a smooth-barked tree, capture you
in this bamboo drinking cup.

 
   
   
   
   
     
Poetry    
Written on Skin  
Another Beginning  
As It Goes...  
Iago  
Lot 44  
Waiting  
     
Exit Wound    
Father  
Imagine  
Liquid    
     
  Fiction    
Aardvark  
Still Life  
Campfire Girl  
     
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  Designed by:  
The Francesco Group