Thursday, June 5, 2008

Red Hots and Hard

stuck on a stick,
gets a lick,

sugar sweet
and cherry red,
rot your teeth
right out your head,

who wouldn’t take
a finger to the
birthday cake?

Passed around
and getting thinner,
just enough
to spoil dinner,

wrapper blown
along the street,
gone as quickly
as they meet,

can catch an eye,
another hunger
passes by;

tears pooled in
a chocolate cup,
can’t fill them up.

1 comment:

Kat said...

hey, just now noticed a comment you left on my blog months ago, so i checked out your page :) your a fantastic poet! cant wait to read more.