Drunk Drum

i might Save you   if you allow
as i am the Poet  and shall not leave
but will write____in all intensity
i may sprout wings to swoop your Soul
but forget the body | why in these wild nights
do i love you?

  In Eden and Atlantis
the Wind does not require
air ~ but she weeps still stolen gardens with bright
bee hums ~~ wherefore i shut the sound while

it dragged like a drunk drum and my reasons
never contained –but of Talk–
myself of some strange race
or being i dropped down and down
then as a King witnessed, upon your lips
, quivering as a living thing our lips
met.

   The world turned upon a time
her eyes fluttering as butterflies
to entertain champagne.

:: 02.14.2023 ::