Clave
Space opening a flowering void expandsThe Moon like an eye of evil blinks
When nothing is, as anyone thinks
Faces closing overpowering out of hands
Pale fingers brushed by fate
Wave in underwater slow ballets
Sleep nearby rather late
Dreams, surgical instruments in trays
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 238 times
Written on 2021-11-17 at 07:03
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text