Thursday, December 29, 2011

The Fifth Day of Christmas (Every kiss begins with blech)

The feeling of jewelry on my skin
Evokes skeletons in dank prison
With manacles on wrists, holding them in,
An uncomfortable feeling, a frisson
That turns sideways into a knot
And makes me not want what I've not got.
One ring only, the promise from my wife;
Not one band more for the rest of my life.


John said...

pocket watches are nice.

W.B. Picklesworth said...

Yes, you are quite right.