A Thief Of Certain Things
I am a thief of certain things:
A strand of hair
That flames with a fire
The mere photograph
Of a red dagger
That singes in the high-noon.
The wayward child’s
Brazen ballad
Underneath
A pillow of dreams.
From lost trails
From a hound’s rendezvous
To the uncovered
Secrets of the gods
That laugh
I, in this thievery, with
The tacit fires
Are one.
I am a thief
Of certain things:
A memoir of
A woman.
Her breath upon
My glasses.
The lipstick smear
Engraved on a
Dead cigarette,
The grooves
On the bed
Left after a 20-minute
Fire brigade.
The scent on
The gentle fabric.
Everything
From songs
To words
To numbers
And people,
I am a thief of certain things.
I stole everything
From them
To make myself
Whole.
They let me break
Into their windows,
Even left the keys
[...] Read more
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
Added by Poetry Lover
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