Magical Poetry

Magical Poetry
Micheal Ace

Sunday, 2 October 2016


These words are stretch marks
Drawn on the slate of her breast
They are the focused wrinkles
Patterned on grandmother's face
The blind needs them
Not because they don't have eyes
But because their faces are books
Read only by the siblings of sky
The deaf needs them
Not because they don't have ears
But because the words are men
Who keep leaves between their jaws
Stammerers also need them
Not because of their knotted tongues
But because this decades will pass
Before they read their first name
But what are these words?
They are sticks for the blind
They are symbols for the deaf
And patience for the stammerers
They are sanity of my mad letters
Dancing naked in streets of your eyes
They are darkness from this place
This place you all call night.

©Micheal Ace

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