After Exhalation by Sean S
Aimless one of this self
stays therefore done knotted
burnt bride of this praised so sun-columbine
wax melted, tumbling Icarus she’ll
goad him now into the have-known
abstinence periwinkle without
which pretty metal feather, a mouth
less sown to thrice-stitched closure
but open she as down feather on
the breath of a moth, exhaling him.
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1 comment:
Damn, Jen!
That is one powerful, encapsulated poem.
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