Drowned Feathers in New York
Graceful, sad queen of the swimming birds
covered in tulle and leaping-
your sickness was hidden so well.
So bloody your nails, so clean your face,
your mind tilted into a broken Arabesque
and split like a hologram projected from a shattered lens.
Like light spinning in your red water,
we heaved full double-distortions on our sobs
reflecting in the glazed eyes of our Swan Girl-
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (1 so far!)
Some lovely imagery. I really like this one.
- #1334 Posted 2 years ago
- Published 2 years ago.
- Story viewed 10 times and rated 0 times.
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