Would love to hear your feedback on the impact of this poem. What works? What doesn’t? If you were my editor, what changes would you recommend?
Joie de Vivre
I look into your eyes of lion; it feels like baring my soul. Pulling away layers of history, things to you unknown. I remember sixteen; hunger pacing her reviled prison, dreams bleeding out to a porcelain judge. Then you came along, the world bursting gold. You made it seem a game, life a journey on which we never need behave. You, a buoy in the tides of my decay. Twenty years later and ‘how have you been?’ steals my tongue from its calcified cage. How could it be? You grew old like me. Gods aren’t meant to age.
by Michelle Beltano Curtis
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