Saturday, 11 June 2016

1 New Poem

Shared Paragraphs

The read word flashes, keeping awake
through knotty wire, fish light
kind of lumineering:

It says, “these relics crumble
from storm batters, they reveal
an illusory shape,

A liar’s tongue dipped in
contradictory passageway murals,
signage pointers to all,

Of how things were once,
not so good, not so bad,
but wholly clipped

Of measure weight” to your
destruction, to your
melting into worldly demands.

Then, though, without pages
to pour, gin-slow, glassy,
would I still want

This kiss?

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