(#15) On the man behind the curtain.

prompt: talk to your poetry

my verses are curses that tie and bind,
i am freed by the calm of her hair,
the cadence is stagnant and falters in pieces,
the long glances put my world back together.

i
am //
longform, i exist momentarily across a page,
syntax two-folded origami paper cranes
and an appeal to seal the deal,
my poetry begs and tells no lies.

i walk across bridges at midnight,
i thunder equilibrium like a train through the fog,
style; blatant, glows naked in moonlight.
my breathlessness moves like a man behind a curtain.

so what colludes? where does it veer?
or do the winding roads sweep to a similar end,
bending back and forth to make amends,
through words, through inimitable trend,
thirty to a year is not as much as appears.

-C.

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