Naked

An experiment with projective poetry that I started for my creative writing class. Inspired by the work of Robert Creeley.

Rocks indent

my skin, I heard

a train sound to

the night, goosebumps on flesh,


you say you like

it, I know.

Flesh keeps

no secrets.


I remember how

naked I felt, my clothes

in place, except the black

thong around my


ankle, stuck on my

heels, out of

place in the rocks.

This is a picnic,


under the optimistic stars.

The dark of summer night,

not deep

enough to shroud us,


looming deeper with time.

A red bra strap

peeks from my t-shirt,

seeing myself in squares,

small sections,


the mirror of a sun-visor.

The radio,

singing of love,

a hand reaches


out for a safe

harbour. It

finds nowhere

to anchor.

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