Ars Poetica

By Anastasia Vassos


 
 
Many angels to wish
whole again:
white wings fall
from a pin,
words escape
the runway
of the tongue,
desire seeps
from the body
in a stream.
 
I ponder the dark illiteracies that cannot be undone:
a pomegranate, an apple.
 
Let me be a book before it’s written.
Words lined up in proper order behind the heart.
Pomegranate seeds that glow like garnets
cleaving to white pith inside red, burly skin.

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