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It is not poetry that kills but life.
(by Jerry Berryman)
True, I am against your
Charged, pure silk silken
And crumby soft
I need polyester for strength,
But only the right percentage
To insure against shrinkage.
And this one whirl of silk
Is febrile, tenuous, and remote.
Tearing badly at the slightest
Brush with sun and wind and rain.
Curl, fray at the edges
Under mere finger pressure.
And I, of course, need polyester
Strength for the right bounce,
The proper blend and weave,
Sun-spun, a healthy brune
Against this rose-ash dying,
To spread out, centripetal
Opening, purely strong,
Strengthened by your nudging
Private polyester polyestrous
Blood, and awakened, thus
Shaken from this twilight, silken swoon.
