Poetry of a long lost poet


Thursday, February 5, 2009

Babovka in the bath


The cake is sweet and dry
the outside, creating a crust
and when you place it
in your mouth, it's quickly moist

My body should be haggard from
last night's activities, but
it only feels sleepy, as if
those were the most innocent of touches

When I came home I dreamed I had
never left you, and we kissed
while we slept and you stirred beside me

Until I realized that was Lydia,
and you and I had already said goodbye