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Cellmates

A cell is a structure, one in a million,
Lego bricks of life, blocks of tissue,
stacked one upon another, doing our time,
and mine is number six-one-two.
 
I’m part of an arm, a wing of this giant,
I’m one of a million who keep him breathing,
feeding his sleep with dreams of membrane
partially permeable dreams of leaving.
 
Kneel in prayer beside the bed
the nucleus– I scarcely leave it.
quite alone and surrounded still,
but in my dreams, the sky’s the limit.
 
Oh the sky; a background for birds
flying low, flitting home, flapping free,
clouds that are dragons and a moon that burns,
and an Angel to watch the sky with me.
 
An Angel on a lido
laughing wild and free,
an Angel with the largest wings
who shares my cell with me.
 
My Angel has a changing face.
He holds me close, sad but true,
and flees away at the warden’s knock,
breathless for the sky’s bright blue.
 
I am a structure, cell six-one-two,
I am a man and a murderer too,
shards of glass and a tale untrue,
dreaming for my patch of sky:
 
 
Bright Blue.
Préféré par...
Autres oeuvres par Eleanor Chapman Drake...



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