poems | allegra osati

poem one hundred and one.

typewriter keys dangle on a chain a graveyard of memories around your neck

she found purchase on the strings that played an augmented sixth she slept in modulation comfort in chaotic movement

a tavern dimly lit white snow darkening its door held deep in its belly ale and the revolution

she danced on the line between pride and pain the flames danced with her as she burned

i found my eyes could not open but for a moment anxiety is my closest friend we take walks and sip coffee on verandas that overlook my mind

the rain perches in my soul a perfect sonata lulls me i drift even a flood leaves but a dew drop in its wake