five days

 

and pulses

of the hour

are jagged

flames

burning

my titanium,

roasting my

metals in

fiery pieces

 

panicked,

it’s a gentle panic

 

my fingers

are rose and magenta

covered in

cotton mittens

 

cure,

i look for the doctor

but the

door is

closed

 

the secrets

are only secrets,

 

i’m an erratic

satellite,

a susceptible

flesh

tossed in

placid tantrums

 

 

2012

 

 

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About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to five days

  1. Anne says:

    I especially like your last stanza here – very nice!

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