Geoffrey Long
Tip of the Quill: Archives
30|08:13 Baba Yaga
It was her fingers that undid me,
long, spidery things half again too long
and knotted with extra knuckles,
skittering things, scratching things,
grasping, grabbing, groping things,
they took hold of my pleasant delusions
and unraveled them with a harsh nasty tug,
popping loose the seams of my amorous intent
before continuing on to my very heartstrings,
drawing them out from between the meat of my ribs
until nothing remained inside myself
but thread and yarn and red.
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