Feb 02, 2009 10:32
Mercury comes out of retrograde
all smiles, gilded eyes,
gloved hands. Never trust
a beautiful man.
Light steps made him a dancer
and moving backward
made him a monster. He plucked
words from the air
and wove them into nooses.
I would have liked
a laurel wreath, if he
could only have taken
pity on me, on his winged
and ageless feet.
poetry
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