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David Estringel

Lovely start to a Monday–unsettling poetry that speaks to my own inner state. The music of this one grabbed me. Bravo, Brava, Bravx 😉

Horror Sleaze Trash

Sepscendence

Fire
in my lungs
and poisoned veins,
fading
in (to white)
out (to black),
I see the eye of God—
unflinching
cold
against the welcoming void
of closed lids…
…that dream?
Is He keeping vigil?
Calling in the loan?

Always attending
never
ending,
His watch, nary a waver,
there
between the veil
‘til shadows
of angels, wingless
white
against the blaze of
artificial suns, rouse me
back
to this world of light
and illusion—the Hell
of my own making,
Was He keeping vigil?
Calling in the loan?

I suppose I’ll never know

***

Originally published in Alebrijes Review

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