A Pen Is

a pen is in my hand
standing on the edge of eden
unfurled fruition of fancied frolic
or icy exile of self domain

imminent refrain
constraining commune
immune yet immured
as marred as marital malady
the mighty unmentionable

extension of our pretense
portending wrath so tender
rending mathematics
moot as mute mire’s mooring

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

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