to Nikolai Gumilev
there's a wall at the end of a
small street in Paris
this street is imprinted
within the spotted hide
of a young and radiant giraffe
this giraffe is eating leaves in Africa
this is your giraffe, Nikolay
if only you could be here to see it
YOU ARE READING
STΛRLIGHT
Poetrypoems about my friends and family, about my rivals and foes, about kindred souls and almost-strangers; about every star that's been within my sky.
