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Posted by on Aug 3, 2018 in Poetry | 1 comment

A Message

A Message


What is the state of this unrest?
To lie in the dark and rustle
To dream and hustle
To rise like a wave and crest.
I feel its feet threading the sheets
its broken chest coughing up air;
drowned and defeated it greets
unexpectedly treading the bare
sunlit water; in the flap of wings
the flipping of pages the passage
of this body the mind that flings
about in bright rings. A message,
in alien braille, fidgets at the door
black silk dress spread on the floor.

1 Comment

  1. A black silk dress spread on the floor!

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