- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Accident
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It hurts to move; it hurts to speak, to breathe;
To realise, with every single breath,
She might exhale a final little death,
Though she can light this room, with silent ease:
For she is now the centre of attention,
Where once she was a flower by a wall,
And yes, so shy in shadow; they may stall
Recollecting, yet, it's worth a mention:
They eulogise, they pray, they hope; they fear
Now the intensity can't be surpassed;
There's tension in the air; and love exerts
New pressures, for the time is drawing near
When any second left could be the last;
It hurts to move, to speak, to breathe: it hurts.
- COMMENTS
Tzaraabout 14 years agoNice use of form, and the repetition of the first line as the last is not only an elegant feature, it seems to give a sense of closure to the poem.
greenmountaineerabout 14 years agoAbsolutely frightening. I don't see how anyone reading this could not enter her world. The repetition of the first line in the last with its climatic variation had a profound effect upon me as well as the repetition of the infinitive phrases that felt like a heartbeat struggling to persist.
