Atlas

by Melpomene   Jul 15, 2013


I'm not sure if you know this but
seagulls have died here. Their corpses rest
in the small of my back and there's nothing but
bones and beaks. Marc Jacobs' licks at the
rotting scent as you try and unstitch the
maps he left as a trap, making you believe
there's still treasure here. You ask me to
wonder about wander. The designer
within you has paper packed and
is waiting to illustrate a new story.

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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by CuteThingsGoneWrong

    I love your imagery when you write. You always seem to find a way to wash a tone over the whole poem. Its beautiful to be honest and I do hope that you keep writing forever.

    You keep things so open with this poem and I find it amazing and different considering what it seemed to be about.

  • 5 years ago

    by Jaymi Lynn

    Its absolutely adore this poem...its a treasure within a treasure! Definitely going on my list of fav.

  • 5 years ago

    by Hellon

    Very intriguing write (again)!

    I'm not sure if you know this but
    seagulls have died here. Their corpses rest
    in the small of my back and there's nothing but
    bones and beaks

    ^^^
    You sound sad and angry at the same time here...like your telling the world...look, I've experienced this so, surely I'm in a position to know this fact?

    The reference to Marc Jacobs had me confused at first because, among other things, he has a huge perfume range which I love but...you are comparing the sweetness of this perfume to something that is now rotting and repulsive to you...maybe haha!!!

    I'm no sure what you mean by wondering about wander....maybe you'd like to explore you family heritage which I know is overseas.

    As always....you have given the reader a lot of avenues to go down with your words....enjoyed it HONEY!

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