Tussled Angels
I see lips, hear jokes.
I’ve a knowing that’s nothing left forgotten.
I see eyes, know that bite,
now there’s nothing. Nothing left. It’s all forgotten.
I see the tussled angels lifting higher, higher.
Something never to be forgotten.
I see her float, I know this toad.
Everything undone,
is quite impeccably frozen.
Forbidden. And then, remembered.
It’s never been lost, we all remember.
I’ve seen the note, I want to know.
I hear questions, a tight rope’s croak.
A long lust hoax.
Wind or win, choice for choosing.
Float and gush and mush inside the bitter strokes,
oh dear heavenly crazed impressions.
There’s no emotion left for anybody now,
sucked dry until the next wave of confession.
I’ve repeated armored life forms,
bright waves much less surrendered,
May I find that way? No way to figure out,
my doting figures of commotion.
Where’s my rain, three swell hearts?
Instead of fire in the moment,
will be the cloud
be bursting,
be soaking.
Copyright © Alyssa Couture | Year Posted 2010
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