- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Witness
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Click hereThe fierce thumb of a small girl points to me,
to call forth somehow a prism of light
through which might radiate her memory,
before its past refractions.
Nothing can recall the fine toothed edge
of that moment, though I can
mimic the sound of a flame quite clearly.
If I am asked, I will watch birds in flight
against the crystal, the hologram
of a landscape stuttered into songs like prayers
I will notice then how the sky recedes.
- COMMENTS
GayKat11 months agoOutstanding, 5-Stars,,, yes!
Hallo Rowan!
Very thought provoking... but I've found that some of my memories were best left undisturbed..
The Black Queen and Gay Kat..
💋 💋 💋
Rowan_O11 months agoAuthorThank you, Paul. Isn't it funny how we remember things - but each time we remember it, we change it, fracture it. Sometimes it seems the thing remember is right there, ready to be touched. Other times, it pulls away from us.
