| Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: The Medium |
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twilight hour,
Of shadow Zen and, A lost form of chaos, In the black button stare, Of a worn out doll. Cast in a reflection, Of The Last Unicorn and, The moon on it's toes, And to Urania a temple, Of sand. Here she will walk, Barefoot, Her vapor-light eyes, Will pierce the sun and, Encompass the world. She will touch, A milestone in heaven, She will run Hermes, Into despair of, The ground. Brevity and mysticism, With a box of crayons, She will draw... And show her mother, Humanity. |
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