Doors to War
Her eyes were lemon peonies
beneath the blue of cyclades
quakes in all magnitudes
tear at me in inner feuds.
Why desire?
Why light my fire?
C’mon baby,
no need for L.A. woman.
Doors left open,
doors slammed shut,
or barricaded against
skeletons now run amok.
Which way is which?
Am I to be paladin or lich?
Insurrections arise in ego
like Ukrainian nitroglycerin.
One thought on "Doors to War"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Wow !
Good poem.