Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Birdlike Spirits

You stopped me from writing.
My heart still breathing,
heaving in its very last beating.
One by one, you metamorphose
into a formless nocturnal parrot,
so red in your musical vibrancy.
                                       Time droops.
A contemporary chant repeats its tune
past five seconds. No one bothers
to investigate creatures of the night.
They simply be. Now he is mad,
looking for you. I am, too.
Trapezium boxes electrocute my hand —
not as blunt as your whiny, jittery fangs.
I know not what to cling
when your plumose sweet things
are all that I can ruminate in reference.
Sitting to numbness is my only place,
waiting and waiting for your swift ghosts
to come rustling down the pond.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013, 2:11 AM –
Wednesday, February 27, 2013, 1:44 AM

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