Halsted M. Bernard

Poetry, prose, and in between.

With Talons

Driving into my narrowed gut, your eyes
say nothing, read everything out of me.
I find your whisper at my neck
overwhelming. My breath, a gust out of me.

Say nothing. Read everything. Out of me
you take what you want; your lips are always
overwhelming my breath. A gust out of me
and I reach for you with talons.

You take what you want. Your lips are always
painful to watch when not on my body.
And I reach for you with talons,
with everything, but I come up empty.

Painful to watch when not on my body,
driving into my narrowed gut, your eyes
with everything, but I come up empty.
I find your whisper at my neck.

© 2002 by Halsted M. Bernard
published in poem memoir story Number 4/2004

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