Friday, July 31, 2009


by Leon Wing

Degrees around then back
Then back again to start,
He found a fitting finally.
He clicked on nails, bleed-
Ing trails of notes be-
Tween fuzz, sizing her up,
Jawing her neck. In turn
She seized the top of his
Head, kneading calm his
Chrysoberyl glare.

© Leon Wing 2009

Listen to this poem:

Leon Wing writes poems, mostly. He “sees” shapes, colours, objects, structures, when reading them; like some people do when listening to sounds or music, as when he writes for Puisy-poesy.

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