Driver\



When you drove down marble staircases f a l l i n g
{gravity laughed at your weightless ride}
Wearing sets of silver webs, slivers of glass scattering silk like flesh
{orbits flashing in jets of darkened image}
Eyes met for lost in the backwards yearning longing for words
{meteor\ mercury spilling secrets\ seashell ears\}
Lips wet with want or blood, flush as crimson gushing well
{dry airs/dead cities asleep/so still}



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 578 times
Written on 2016-09-07 at 23:43

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