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Optical Ablution

by Laura Doom

The moon is full of itself tonight
and there is mewling in the air;
my flesh crawls through
a crevice, no wider
than your soft-pawn smile.
Bereft of my pallid, venereal legacy
I dance in deviant, whorlish cycles
settiing a trail of post-pneumatic,
katabatic mumurs, confident
that no one is more
or less significant
in the dread of night.

An over-modified sky
consummates the ritual; I am bound
to seek redress, to untie
strings and celebrate this gift
of wanton amphigouri.

05/23/2009

Posted on 05/22/2009
Copyright © 2020 Laura Doom

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/22/09 at 11:55 PM

...laura, be right back. gone to buy a dictionary...then i'm gonna be on to you...at least it's not full of recrudescence b.s.

Posted by Kris Mara on 05/26/09 at 12:23 PM

I love how you wrap this up in the last two lines....clever

Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 05/31/09 at 12:37 AM

This ~

that no one is more
or less significant
in the dread of night


will stay with me, pondering somehow upon its own undeniability, catching me unaware again, again

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