Maskerade Poem by Jamie Dewyer
Maskerade
this mask i fear
is wearing me
inside out in atrophy
but please release this cobalt ice
akin to torturate device
say silver
sliver
slight of hands speak
let the words reduce the sentence
grieve the lean theives
slow to hunger
must we wait inside this slumber
for
for ever
her names blessing
she now in this lamb-wool stuffing
wrapt the age of deca-dante
12 or 9 rings
hey who's counting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/5/2024 11:25:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
