Enamel Morning Poem by Leon Moon
Enamel Morning
4000 deaths in the making; Sri Lanka has lost its clouds.
The Sanguine Sun no longer exhausts the draining of veins
Where in secrecy ancestors are devoured by appraising sounds
Creating you, stationary anabolism, frosted fire, labile woodcuttings;
The fleeing of your love.
Thursday, October 25, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/20/2024 12:17:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
