Title:
<i>Boomboom, boomboom, boomboom, . . . In my room Ours It's slow The boom boom Languid We pause Sniff Touch Savoring our apartness Our closeness This poem wants to be short The moment wants to be long The shiny hardwood floor, the empty wall, the clothes piled up in a heap, the bed we share All this wants to be forever Particularly the embrace The tearing open of a present The near tearing when it is over and there is nothing like this on the horizon The empty bottle sitting there </i>
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 11 and 8:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.