Brick bashing in one’s
frugal atonement of sin, is
a lark taste of sugar, a sweet face
chastise a warm embrace.
After I hurt you, after the vengeance,
and no forgiveness spoken. But– (silence)
A graceful rictus beams after your kiss–
and you kiss me, arms in snail fondness,
and I fall- and fall in– the cavity of guile,
a chasm of micturated sorrow, you made.
Brick bashing one’s feeling, I sin
forgiveness, I did not attain.
Lessons were learned, pity roped
ego’s grope of another (one’s) like you.
Song birds plumage will now sing,
songs of feathers, feathers like ours, pluck.
Daffodil Decarie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/plucked-feathers/
