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Sundays, Tom Waits and You

sunshine spills on to the carpet
naked where she lay
like a silky cocker spaniel
wallows in the warmth
hot as a sausage
browning in the pan
sweat beads string
a dewy necklace
slowly sliding
around the curves and
the radio is whispering
a smoky tom waits verse
my heart will not beat
lungs will not breathe
my eyes can hardly
bear to gaze
as she extends a long
and lazy leg
gently rolling over
sinking softly into the
heat where
sunshine spills on to the carpet

24 Jun 07

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This is beautiful, Jon.
My only nit is 'you' in l17.
I would either change 'she' in l2 to 'you' as well
or change 'you' in l17 to 'she'.

Very nice.

 — unknown

I really like this poem. The rhythm's great and I love the way you've connected the beginning and the end.
 — sparrow

wonderful, moody piece with well-captured heat.
L14:  breathe

L 11-- with due respect to Mr. Waits, shouldn't your verb be "rasping"?
 — banditfemme

run-on-line 5-6 seems useless and makes it hard to follow...
spelling mistake line 14...
 — greenmantle

Thanks for all the comments, I made the pronoun and spelling changes.  
banditfemme - Waits' voice is raspy. I've always made the assumption it was from too many cigarrettes (sp?) and alchohol.  Also it makes me thing of dim smoky little bars, thus I chose 'smoky' instead of the more obvious 'rasping'.
 — skinnyJon

Ok, I missed the point.  Line 11 is 'whispering' because the radio's volume is very low.
 — skinnyJon