A Poet’s Chains

A poet’s chains by Al-Logaha Hand

A new word

A carving in of time

It takes sap from the trees and is at once uprooted

Not a commercial you but a subtle and long sensation

Above me something is melting

It is snow becoming filtered letters

Old friends pronounce the lack of your presence as being in denial

Glass chains are a Chinese artifact

Full of intriguing colors making a pact with an angel

A grown up child is detested by the masses for all the messes it makes

A golden plate is delivered with cake

My blocked self hesitates to take the first bite

It just might taste too good and I might consume it all by myself

Like my words

I keep eating until I am way past full

And my fingers are indented and cracked

Confusion sets in on this powdery morning

I am all set to overstate the facts and build a poetry mantle to set all my future books on

And then it explodes into the hearts of others

I can’t sit still

It’s not my willpower at stake

But a rake full of tomorrow’s leaves of absence

So as far as the story goes

I will let my woes fall asleep on this page and let rage dine into purgatorial descent

Where I don’t have to lie but lay my soul before you

Open and delivered by the postman of posthumous dreams


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