Friday, 17 March 2017

star-father to star-son (edit 1)

my son, it seems,
begs to differ
with everything I have been
and everything I have thought.

Visors misty with our words,
we sit, smug in the bloated suits we don,
on opposite sides of the universe,
prepare to re-plunder each other
with words and looks
in an out of control spiral,
two hearts re-create the bitter belt
we call asteroids.

No comments:

Post a Comment