Amid its trembling
flight on sun-singed wing
I slipped out my tongue
for its safe landing.
Soft shavings of outer space black
were cried across a punctured lung
It fluttered angry 'neath my breast
my quiet hero moth unsung
Within me
ice pillows floating
drunken soul river
your feather ink head
will slumber darling
for tonight
for ever.
© 2007 Nuri
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/15024/95010 on Saturday October 11th, 2008 02:30 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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