27/03/2016

#poem #poetry #amwriting 22

22

In my madness I write letters to angels
and flinch at the hanging cobwebs
formed by the frame of my glasses.

Sometimes, testing the elasticity of things,
tapping each rib in turn, I hold my breath,
hold it, hold it until I dare sign each note
of hollow music. And, when echo brings
a sound of who once inhabited my soul
then is the time to breath out, and live.