poetry

Solemnity

I slept, or endeavored
as poems danced their drunken dances
white-tooth gaiety
a rustling cacophony
aye, each seducing the next
or whichever– might seem amicable
I slept, or endeavored
as the raucous powder-hair affair roared
and chortled
spinning
too drunk to care
but not drunk enough
to forget
solemnity–
tho still, I hadn’t felt
its chill

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Eric

I've come to write.

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