a thicket of fists

ahhhh blogger. like a cork hurriedly stuffed into a bottle neck of wine. the bottle not the neck. or is it the neck we're stuffing here? part of someone's body perhaps to stifle ideas from gushing through someone's throat. lips.

i dont know or cant know, i dont know which so i'll use somebody else's words.

Accept everything: this
extraordinary turbulence,
the sadness and the pain caused,

the people at this party
claiming to be your friend
car bombs, lottery wins and viruses,

the rare and the time-worn.
Then recall the oxymoron
of his love,

the journey of his hands
across your body,
the thicket of fists enmeshing

you. Remember how
you tied yourself to the tracks
hoping to be saved,

rails sung
the hurtling of a train.
Nothing is as risky as love.

- Naomi Woddis