Metal crash, blood crush -
I am reborn with words.
All the breathing world pauses,
That hitch-smooth rhythm
Greater than the sum of sighs -
Essential grace.
Soaring - a jet plane,
A freight train -
Liquid sound at fever pitch.
The air is so thick it's practically alive.
Hot and clever,
It slides over the pulse and curve of that desperate
Snakeskin shine.
Heat and press -
My solitary crime.
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Author:
CindyB (
Offline) - Published: June 2nd, 2019 02:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- User favorite of this poem: Goddess of the Mist.
Offline)
Comments2
I really like this, very good use of metaphor and this piece really has a rush to it. Good write!
Wow, this is powerful! I know something's good when I get chills - and I got chills reading this! Nice job!!
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