Sunny harpoon
that smell
of sun-burned feathers
his gaze just fell
as the sun turned into
a black swan
Your metallic Orion clasp
the final
was found
at the bottom of
my solitary champagne-glass
I am Leda
the true
just me now
Poetry by Silene
Read 825 times
Written on 2006-09-27 at 17:54
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