The Old Thievery/The New Romance.

To revisit
         these old echoes
chamber of blinding delights
        a collision of memory &
 circumstance. Wrap my limbs around
       a bare tree,
               rob a nest,
              gather wasps to my chest
         see the welts flower
       like candied sugar jewels.
   I sew my mouth
                shut to grieve--
  bloody new flesh, worry old scars.
       Consider again transformation--
     fragility vulnerable & visible
               to these brutes,
                  these pragmatists,
          light a candle.
                   whisper,
           I am the last romantic for
                     miles around---
             & keep the secret
       as I pare down & shuffle away.
      
 

Reviews

[poetic soul]

ohh.. now this has got something.. nice one!! :) smells good too

Regards,
Poetic Soul