Poem – “Forsaken Touch”

Forsaken Touch

Something the god of swamps would abandon,
I love him not, nor the sound of his touch
Harsh like a weathered tongue against asphalt
Sharp as sunburn, jagged as the moon’s flesh
Something the monsters in dreams couldn’t bear
I want him not, nor the touch of his voice
A violation of all sound that dead musicians weep
Rotten as mildew on a nameless grave,
Something the forsaken and evil would hide from

©S. M. Shuford 2018
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