TheFeatheredSleep – Unsaid, not diminished


What does it feel like?

Plunging onto sunlit cold water

Green parrots fillimg foreign disiduous trees with their unending squarl

You’d never love a woman … I think as I thaw my hands on the Auger

There’s a horse on my grandmother’s mountain

If you let him, he’ll turn you feral

The thrashing of his incessant lathering and earnest beat of heavy hooves

When I look at you and see that same yearning for muscular motion, the tinder of musk in beckoning air

To break you open

Where the fight against ourselves is an insate red nerve

blooming ragged at night

He can harness your urge and capture the perversity of four flung desires

By the roughshod step of his weight and how

Turning against you he is a metal to your alchemical veins

No. You’d not be a woman I could translate into rain …

Your poise is for…

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