Читать книгу Wicked Enchantment - Wanda Coleman - Страница 17

i will speak to the night. it will listen

words faint as breath

a door thru which i escape/another world

imagination carries me

i am light, float/smoke/waft

this dance on the killing floor of spirit

light one candle and move on

oboe my mouth turned inward

dream i am possessed by the dream: arrival

the fire

my skin peels off, beneath it soft moist black earth

mother the candle burns slow

communicate? it’s hard to talk

difficult to sculpt

the flame gives off no warmth

the many ways i spell hate on every empty wall

when my time comes

i will speak to the night

it will rise

and follow