Junkie Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
Junkie
The blind moth fluttering
outside the window: nothing
but the light will coax it in
out of the darkness:
the spidery light
of ecstasy, a pinprick,
the hot rush, body
floating, wings seared,
a rushing of blood that bubbles:
then slowly, colder
colder contortions
and the long dark hours
sleepless as a lizard licking
the grit from under its eyelids.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: human condition
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5/3/2024 8:59:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
