Eloquence is not enough as
moonlight slips over an eyelid

Neither the eyes, nor the mouth
of the anonymous poet releasing
a thousand years of pain, pain
that flies away on a single
wing, the hearts of poems light
up poor blood stars as the
the arms of poems juggle lyrics’
movement toward Grace

thoughts as butterfly words
flutter to release a thousand nails
before the swarm flies to crash
to secure the poem to the walls
of ambivalent anguish, floating
along frivolous ribboned strings
of words, butterflies burst
as bombs, singeing the single
winged poet in her sleep

© Ionwhite

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