Misnomer (Iii) Poem by Leon Moon

Stifled to her assumption,
I am no more than a dream;
I puff hard, as if I don't conceive,
Recording how fast the Sun is a medlar
Before the ocean of noblesse debt collectors, fetishizers of corrosion,
Maraud silence to laziness, replicating the loneliness of a star;

Wrapped in her last layer of gilt,
I am no more than her pride;
I enchant, starve, as if I'm never blind,
Retrieving intentions reducing, festering to a convolvulus
Newly discovered each time I make my reflection wilt,
Reminiscence of the cyan vault distinct without a witness.

The Horizon,
Dread and expectation
Entwined to one,
Lies dormant.

Diseased for her arrival,
I am no more than God's minus;
I act amnesia, as if I'm not endless,
Coronating with a spear her thought-to-be blister,
Retrieved for love's survival,
A pyre for a fire, the space where once was her sister.