Ghotic Poem by Dorina Neculce

Ghotic



gothic solitude

when the blue strings
are like getting light
over one sunsets
I have my dirty hands
unse my livid eyelids and
I float drifting
over the water of Jordan
with bats in claws
I feel only the supressed memories
when I twist them under
the shape of a stitch in my thought
there under a the stronghold
where
are gathered
all the clouds of ash

Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: arafat
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