Three Lovers in a
"We'll never pass the
"We'll never make the river."
"We're mired in the forest."
"We'll grow tall to reach the sun, heliotropes, and paint our faces with crushed red currants so we resemble flowers rather than women."
(They begin to fight about more quickly crossing the
"Look at the bruisepink sky."
"Soon the sun will set."
I'm sorry. This still doesn't read as a poem.
Copyright, 2008, Jennifer Chesler, All Rights Reserved