deepundergroundpoetry.com
Neophobia
You speak in antiques
through throaty groans - burnished bronze
husking off my nylons - it's just a flaying away
and lull me with the
woolen tones of old shelter
itchy finery
a woven hold, gray and grayer
in this northwest light - hanging my jaw
to homestead on your collar;
the ironing all but undone
Spring warms away necessities...
or only you
my estuary of arms
I left my feathers on your foyer floor
Published 20th Jun 2018
| Edited 23rd Jun 2018
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20th Jun 2018 10:04am
Love your phrasing - speaking in antiques ...an estuary of arms - wonderful
20th Jun 2018 9:15pm
22nd Jun 2018 9:33am
Atomik, this piece is rich with beautiful vocabulary. I can tell that we share a love for words. I uttered a contented sigh reading "my estuary of arms"...so safe, so comforting. You are a master at creating new and exciting metaphors like "lull me with the woolen tones of old shelter " That evoked fond memories of my grandpa's sweater...a scent that remains in a dear place in my heart...i will learn from you. Bravisima!
22nd Jun 2018 9:42pm
Thank you so very much! It means a lot that someone connected with these phrases :) I really appreciate the kind feedback!
