The Italic lifeA Poem by eglantine
My heart is italic, like a baby bat's wing
and October snow falls like eyelashes on a sleeping lovers cheek. It's four a.m.--the hour for wide-eyed poets and lost tree spirits. Dandelions grow backwards here, like eyes hungry for oxygen. The universe washes up on my lips shoreline; can you taste the stars on my breath? My heart throbs beneath crescent bone: syllable, syllable, syllable. © 2013 eglantineAuthor's Note
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17 Reviews Added on November 6, 2013 Last Updated on November 21, 2013 AuthoreglantineSomewhere SomeplaceAboutI graduated with my B.A. in English (emphasis creative writing) My ultimate goal is to be the U.S. Poet Laureate and to be a college professor of poetry. I'm a wildflower with a poetic soul. I'm als.. more..Writing
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