mo aingeal

such a tiny pike

bumblebee or sandfly sting

colors grip your air

thick black and tourmaline

no joy to scream at flowers

in rusty cuffs of rage

sit like righteous Odin

frame breath with a cage

lapis blue air take you

leave Wil Sommer’s ball

you are in my palace

above the brackish brawl

 

 

 

 

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