by Kimberly Lewis
Heart-tugging, squeezing, demanding to be heard it creeps discreetly into my chest and filters away all mundane, filing down the old halls of forgotton memory and ancient paper-dreams, peeping curiously into crevices exposed only to the most insightful days, boundless words constrict to fragmented meanings - tight-lipped fables of pleasant traumas and untold dreams, heard scraping and clawing sweetly to the electric surface, brewing blue moods and yellowing the real, hindsight and the unfolding concoct a present in gilted bows, the muse’s banality on the stage, sophistries rush and twirl tiptoed from this space, rightness crookedly conforms to a page; bellowing, whispering, hotly enveloping a cool heart, tired from the known and the hackneyed tongue; languid primordial, an ooze of word-pageantry; a bubble of utopia bursts to bleed the black ink.
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