My mind
longs for rest
a lingering thought
a mosquito's lustful kiss
upon the scalp
permeating
It remains to me
an eternal enigma---
where does one dwell
at the open of
the close?
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
My mind
longs for rest
a lingering thought
a mosquito's lustful kiss
upon the scalp
permeating
It remains to me
an eternal enigma---
where does one dwell
at the open of
the close?
In the final Harry Potter book, "I open at the close" is etched into Harry's old golden snitch (it's quite a long story if you don't know the series). It stuck from the moment I read it, and so I incorporated it into this poem.
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