An Intimate Wound
An uncomfortable feeling as though something imminent loomsWaving like a cloud of ghostly fingers touching an intimate wound
Wearing sorrow just an old bruise or a body feeling the moment passing
Striking crosses weigh against the senses failure to grasp the meaning of real
Lighting matches to kill the Light close to nothing whatever was
The matter is no longer now fields of memory wearing shadows dance
Slow motion gestures more like branches breaking away from their heart
Losing limbs somewhere inside convoluted patterns, hidden rooms
An uncomfortable feeling as though something imminent looms . . .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2020-01-14 at 21:57
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