lungs ii.

Monday, July 31, 2017

I have wound you an image
and laid it on waxy leaves

Alba/ A Song of Diana, Laura Nagan
There is a rough
Perfection in my colors
I twine willow 
Branches through my hair,
I trust their lengths and sew
Them to my chest.


I reach pale edges,
Slipping over the crest.


I have no lucid colors;
only the faintly scrawled
signature of veins

the jeweled tissue veils–
they are webs on me,

spun threads sealed to stiff limbs.







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