A poem by Agnes Marton

  Furaibo, Parting Nothing stays still, nobody stays. Fluffing feathers restless for the take-off, I’m just laughing, sad: love changes its wings too often, too soon. Unveiled cathedral of your face is getting new tulle layers impossible to fly through, blurred vision and slurred speech. But in thought I’m there, woven in that shroud to change some detail on you, today’s wink to remind me … Continue reading A poem by Agnes Marton