poem endings

#amy king

For your listening pleasure, I turn as old as I was born, 
stroke the bumpy skin of our whisky illness, manage the pyramids 
we’ve never climbed or crawled within, 
enter the Morocco never wrapped by your feet 
kissing pebbles, visiting your veins, telling you mythologies 
that include how we are the sores of hope riding 
the backs of tomorrow, mountain peaks we climb 
and shout the names of those to come and those who’ve been, 
each of us who happens to be the world’s greatest against every 
shade of sky, and every sky that cradles our dying heads, still living.

- Amy King

 #poetry   #poem   #amy king   #lyrics   #lit   #love   #love poem 

Designed by Richard Mavis. Powered by Tumblr.