Two-a-Penny Poet

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
He's a pleasant imagining, and probably about as realistic as the possibility of my undecaying love.

Submitted: October 31, 2011

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Submitted: October 31, 2011

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She swore she'd find a poet with crystal in his eyes

To outshine the silver of his tongue,

To survive through the years that flesh could not withstand

And catch her tears like rain on a rusting roof.

A synthetic hand could cool her flushed face

When they wake together before a Greek dawn

Move together beneath a Greek noon

And lie together amongst heroes frozen in Greek stars,

His paper skin painted with the words he can't speak.

We can't tell the stars from the mountain lights, he whispers,

And the ivory of his spine flexes into a question mark

And he decides it doesn't matter

When she tells him it doesn't, running a finger

Around that gentle curve, so he sighs,

And giggles, and squirms, and she seizes him,

Being careful not to break him;

But not too careful, because you can buy spare parts

Two-a-penny, next to nothing, for a poet.


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