You Shouldn't Let Poets Lie to You

By Shaili Rachha

I gaze deep into the mouth,

That mutters my deepest desires.

A life full of exuberance, and no burning pyres.

The tale those lips weave,

It engraves my skull with a sweetness that stings.

An impossible flight; a bird without wings.

Along lonesome walks the epithet paints a friend,

A sea of limbs emerge - a hand, a soft shoulder.

I cradle those sacred, dressed words as if it were a fallen soldier.

I see the screaming waves and stars that cry

The endless fields of daffodils, though poppies in disguise.

The text never falters, an encrypted soundless mind

I believe everything the poets speak

Their wonder, and their lies.

By Shaili Rachha