Sunday, 27 September 2020

close all of me

to open all of your demise 
into a protagonist overwhelming 
pour of osmotic gratitude.
the great of our lesser service;
an earth vacuumed into a 
numb fist.

higher priestess standing still
above this loud earth and dripping 
sky; i bleed and believe us.
where you open i close
my vision into a parting
tribe where i let her go
and finite your sword
and land my wand.

this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...