Tony Towle

(1939 / New York City / United States)

The Passion - Poem by Tony Towle

My unconscious mind spun in delirium. The wings
are right over me and in a moment the claws
will be ripping me apart. The pictures crowded in;
a tremendous blast of air swept over me,
at least that is what I told myself.

There is a great leap in thought. The scene
takes on a more brooding quality: I realize
that you are an enemy, a giant sphere
supported by the heavens. When you disappear
I return to my other identity.

The daffodils spring up, a fantasy of her own.
Not one skirt escaped her scissors. I knew
I had seen the last of her as she vanished into the sky.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 8, 2014



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