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Sep 8
My lips are full and red,
They part in numbness and sullen dread
from a winters’ cold
As I wander amongst the trees in a moonlit grove
I pass a fountain
With the porcelain sculpture of an angel
Whose body appears ivory and translucent
in this light blue film noir called midnight
We lock eyes
And the water whispers something secret
from a century ago
Above, a dove flies
And gingerly passes the blooming clouds of Jasmine scented incense
I imagine flying with him
To some other time suggested by the angel
Where my chest could be as light as his wings
And my mouth could sing some melodious  phrases of a heavenly past
To unhook the syringe of solitude
Perhaps with weightlessness of flight
In the rapture of yesterday’s moonlight
Inspired by a Keats Ode.
Written by
Jessica  30/F
   Imran Islam
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