My love bird – a carrion crow
(unwished)
Who’s beak reeks of narcissus
(the scent of thee)
Let me call the black rumble of wings
to fill skies and sheets
with the thunder of your feet.
(Ah! Love. What A thing it is
to be feathers on the wall
and flesh in ice.)
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
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