Fly - Poem by Morgan Michaels
My grip upon the silken cord grows weak
I long as much to linger as to flee
(as if my ruined wings would carry me)
Have I been here a moment or a week?
The cordial poison courses through my limbs
I think it was a mighty drop to drink-
Woeful wound, but worth it, now, I think,
and sweeter finally than my wildest dreams.
How wide the web extends itself about!
each cable seeming fastened to a star
as one by one my tiny lamps go out
like the candles of a candelabra.
How sweet to sink in spite of all intention
into the shivering ecstasy of extinction.
Comments about Fly by Morgan Michaels
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.