Love

The knife
having suddenly grown strangely articulate
says to the wound
I am thirsty but
I cannot drink

The knife says to the wound
I love you

The fire says to the paper
I’m still hungry
The fire says to the paper I love you

The tsunami says to the city
Let me embrace you

The rocket propelled grenade says
I’m just so happy
I could burst

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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