I love the opening but who are they?
This poem reads like a fresh breeze; different.
kol tuv, Ryfkah
In a message dated 08.28.03 4:39:49 AM, [log in to unmask] writes:
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Wings
I heard the Holy Ghost today.
You'd think they'd mew but no:
no ears pricked up to scan the sound.
They yawned, that's all. And then
they bared their bellies to the sky.
I carried on unfolding sheets,
deciphering the doubled stains:
death moths and masks, sly eyes
and genitals -- until I saw the wall
and noticed glass set in the brick
but veiled with paint.
Well, I teased and peeled the skin.
If there was anything behind the pane,
I couldn't see it. And now I've wicks to dip
and lippy mouths to feed.
Think what you like: no sweat.
And yes, it must have been a rat,
a gush of soot, the pointless flap
of vanes split to the quill by wind.
christina fletcher >>
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