Poem -

BENT

BENT

sleep if you can, but good luck
tall tremors cavort with your short light.
you have no usual suspense.
only Night’s Hammer as a guide
to your unusual premise.
calm are the wings of your septic joy.
bent by fathoms of unadorable
asking.

Log in or Become a Member to comment.

Comments

author
Rae Rae

"calm are the wings of your septic joy."
Loved that line 💚

Reply