fevered dreams. |
poetry resides at the tips of your fingers, you...
i know this intimately, because i saw the sun rise...
after the monsoons
puddle the red earth into clay...
kaleidoscopic in nature, you are at worst,
a watchfire gone rampant while unattended...
you liken us to ashen stars – charred by...
marred by the violence of a turbulent galaxy...
honeyed as your words were,
it was your heart that did me in...