Kobus Moolman

· Poem of the day,Despair


I burn easily, he said.

Even in a flood.

It’s always the eyes

that go first. Then the hair

on the back of my hands.

And before you know it,

I’m kneeling at the side

of some hotel bed,

a pair of brown legs

around my head. And

everything, everything

around and inside

and after me

is melting.

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