~chromakey

 

 

listen to a punctured chest

the way air whistles
as if an april full of birdsongs
is caged by these lungs

blood-red narratives filled
a vacuumed cavity of rhetoric
with the invention of verses

a shaken nest, a cracked embryo
became what leaves
the family tree


and october was a paradigm
curving around me
like north-driven wind
rusting naked
until snowfilled eyes
drift again

observe the healing confusion

the transitioning angles of color
from blackache to
green and yellow

circumstances reborn as ink
a blue guise
stitched to a quilt of january
for survival of the bitterness


distance was a salvation
an ordered protection
to engage a palindrome
a selfsame reconstruction

dawn is falling
and this poem should never be
read

 

©  lori hamilton

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