deepundergroundpoetry.com
a sectioning
saw the string slip
from fingers
saw the waning sphere
a tiny dot
and then nothing
and all the throats spilling afterglow
rasping the sky hymn
of coarse sectioning
of black maw and shimmering white apertures
the color of sleep
yearning to go
where the balloons go
from fingers
saw the waning sphere
a tiny dot
and then nothing
and all the throats spilling afterglow
rasping the sky hymn
of coarse sectioning
of black maw and shimmering white apertures
the color of sleep
yearning to go
where the balloons go
Published 5th Mar 2022
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