Do you like stars,
your stars,
of long and sweet?
Of finest grind
that ready to be sowed,
in fields untouched,
ploughed not and
hardly known,
To mortals,
gender bound
and unfree.
Do you like stars,
your stars,
of short and rude?
The ones you downhold
before and after,
in lands
laughraped
by their cutly edges.
Stars of great dare,
talked, often as
selfmute
about.
What is one to do?
To reap and feast?
And lock all doors to strangers?
Or bleed for
mercy’s sake?
Be near bucket,
kicked.
Doors knocked
and smiles arranged,
truths stomach known
lies foretold,
about
changing stars...
Changing stars
© Copyright: Fern, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103081200015
Свидетельство о публикации №103081200015
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