A Satin God
Do you remember when I turned satin into god and wore him?
The rain was piled into puddles,
Layered, then flayed, like our hoarse whispers.
A deity stood dressed in your dressing gown,
The lightning crackled in the rain,
Frayed, then flayed, like our hoarse whispers.
If you've any comments on this poem, Nicolette Turner would be
pleased to hear from you.