Ela Roseni


On Thursday


There are the paper clouds
where I write words with the black wine
the angels will read the angels will recite
my poems

the angels will get drunk with my poems!

it’s Thursday in the city of dark glass
and it is snowing now in the city of rains
in my veins other worlds grow up
unblindfold

until the morning
the grey city will be covered by paper -
the signs of writing

Submitted: Friday, May 02, 2014

Topic of this poem: days


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