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Gray Dawn

Tags: love

Gray dawn in the land of my curse
From slats of a poet's stead
O Love! was it only a ghost
In my shadowed room
Of marionettes on strings
From a touch of sweet lips
Of a crimson poinsettia

And a breath tracing my being
As we kiss the fandango
Giving rise to Ides of dreams
From a poet's bed two slats below  
As the buoy untwines
From my foggy mind
And the twang of my lingo  

With berry ink of bittersweet
To barren verse split in twain   
As her hips minute on my subtle
Bringing up the hour of my thirst
To the tune of the limbo clock
O Love! was it only a ghost
Gray dawn in the land of my curse

I think I'm in love with ancestry
And the apple from a tree
From a garden in free fall
Reaping your sweet harvest
In our land of a homily
Of marionettes on strings
God save the Queen!


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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