Poetry and the like, by Amy Opal Marshall


Wednesday 22 July 2009

Polar.

Cold confusion
A dark night with
Flowing colors and
Beautiful creatures
Enchanting territory
It’s frightening
The opposite pole is far away
The magnetism tugs at my soul and my body
And in this dim polar region
A voice of the air calls me to dwell
With a motive to capture and enslave me
To cause me pain and death in the icy exposure and
To cause me to fall through a façade of
Solidly frozen waters
To be swept into the ghostly jaws of
The whore and the priest
Who have drowned in this dark polar sea.

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