I kiss the air of night
and never bite the lip
but pin my importance
upon the wings of knights
and the sword of steel
gleaming – reflecting eyes
All my shadows – accusations
and the sight-of-sees
my anomalous life
They come from fears breath –
ing within my heart
I’m a low-down witch,
taking steps not taken
by the shadow of death
no, never taking them twice
Most of which the night
never remembers — sweet stride
and a tithe for my Church
of life
:: 09-26-2014 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 