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poetry
England
“England” - 5/8/19
 
I love the way the sky cries here nearly every morning
Just as I am at peril of reliving the recent past
Neuroses fall away like raindrops and 
Across my window a park greener than anyone’s envy
Beckons me to walk for miles and miles
 
Renewing this spirit you tried so luridly
To separate from my skin until resistance
Was so thin a breath was the ultimate
Expression of ambivalence oh how beautiful
It feels to be washed clean by the fruition 
 
Of my heart’s regained, regal wandering
I will venture out now with my pink umbrella
To honor the ancient nomads in my blood
Even as you attempt with your shameless 
Victim-mentality to purport there is no sun
 
Lurking behind these beautiful clouds
I know better and will wear these hopeful 
Travels like a shroud protecting me from 
Claustrophobic excuses and bloodsucking
Windowless whining oh how these open windows
 
Relevé on tiptoe intertwining earth and heaven
Until only whisper-ghosts of regret linger pathetically
In mid-air so clean and so clear I can see exactly
What was then and what now will elatedly become
And so I slip you back on like a glove, 
My muse, my love, my beautiful England