By Anthony Lawrence
My darling turns to poetry at night.
What began as flirtation, an aside
Between abstract expression and first light
Now finds form as a silent, startled flight
Of commas on her face — a breath, a word …
My darling turns to poetry at night.
When rain inspires the night birds to create
Rhyme and formal verse, stanzas can be made
Between abstract expression and first light.
Her heartbeat is a metaphor, a late
Bloom of red flowers that refuse to fade.
My darling turns to poetry at night.
I watch her turn. I do not sleep. I wait
For symbols, for a sign that fear has died
Between abstract expression and first light.
Her dreams have night vision, and in her sight
Our bodies leave ghostprints on the bed.
My darling turns to poetry at night
Between abstract expression and first light.
Poet Bio

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Emily Dickinson at the Poetry Slam
I will tell you why she rarely ventured from her house.
It happened like this:
One day she took the train to Boston,
made her way to the darkened room,
put her name down in cursive script
and waited her turn.
When they read her name...
Altered After Too Many Years Under the Mask
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