To a Space, Suzanne Alaywan

my lungs’ butterfly
 
for two lines of swallows
my halo
everything I have written
 
without bustle
I leave my images and cages
 
with remains of your sanguineous wine
I drug sick light
I tame insomnia
 
But birds
waken me with insistent melodies
 
On my cheeks
the clown’s makeup
the shoeblack in front of me
with his hanging box
a suitcase that does not travel
and the piano who
like crazy
cries and laughs
his half is a waking wing
and his totality is keys
 
music aches me

(Source: jadaliyya.com)

1. ekaro9 reblogged this from kathleenjoy
2. heroin-e reblogged this from kathleenjoy
3. kathleenjoy posted this