TheFeatheredSleep – memory held & memory discarded
That silence you hold around you like a mink
is just a stuffed head with loose teeth
meant to rattle on long voyages
if you had the guts to take them.
Do not go beyond, to that infernal
evocation where haunted,
camouflaged people trade real glass
for plastic and suck deeply on
the opiate pipe.
Stay here, pealing as we are, beneath onslaught
Et je fus plein alors de cette vérité
possessing real in hyssop, amaryllis and anise
you say it’s getting late, I say it’s still
people fall away like pealing clementines
at Christmas, tossing orange skirts on
low fire, see them eaten by flame, till
blackened over, their pride is absorbed.
You climb winding steps away, concertinaed
in your certainly we are ruled by time
reducing from me in sleep
tucking the parts of you filled with shame
like moths will beat and beat and beat
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