synapses | sonnet ten posted by imani , Thursday, June 9, 2011 at 9:17 AM, in Labels: ars poetica

perhaps next time when the skies
will no longer beg for crimson memories
you can afford a synapse
to recall only me, and my humanity

the days end poetically, under
the orange glare of the sunset,
to forge, remember and never
forget the once forlorn taste

of a lonely august wind
that arrests and makes for
hazy afternoons an eternal,

perpetual battle, climbing through
the vines like fatal resurrections
of bittersweet hours.