the treasure of a good hunter

now, two years after, my fingers ten of them
turn back to writing. oh, how you wanted me to

what do you think i was doing for two years
there are moments, when my soul parted to my body
in some moments, i flee in dreams
trying to balance heaven of fixed stars. sometimes, too
i was willing to undergo the fleshiness
shape the volition of other arms. well...
i was just trying to shape yet. i was just thinking
and maybe, too
you started to file fresh lavender secrets

i heard a vessel cracks
contours, white flames, filled with dramatic feathers

jeweled in my silence, you saw nothing
but theatrical laughter. bowing not knowing what... and

in the deep of a powerful mask
i have to stroke alone the treasure of a good hunter.

©anna laurencio; claimed/10.06/2013