Words are Knives

Poetry

Poetry has a deadly beauty:
Like foxglove and nightshade
It puts my thoughts under arrest
Forces me to my knees
Pulls my heart out
and takes it along for a ride
Stunning my mind
And leaving it handcuffed
to the bars of your control
I cannot do anything without my heart and mind
So I am in a coma
Of disconnected thoughts
and feelings and sounds
Unable to leave until the last letter fades
down the stairs of my life
And frees my thoughts
And returns my heart
So it may steadily beat
Until the next poem jumps onto my glowing screen.

~my cousin