The Gift of Eros

love and bird shit by gail

Aloft flies Eros; mischief fluttered wings

With silent rustle whisper overhead

By arrows pierced; the hearts of knaves and kings

The chilly grave, the restless lover’s bed

Blue London air, red Piccadilly light

Above the shifting crowd and constant noise

In summer heat, in neon and the night

He aims his slender bow with perfect poise

Aloft flies Eros; underneath his feet

As shadows of the Circus slowly shift

I contemplate my own love, bitter, sweet

The wound that Eros wrought in me, the gift

And as I turn my tears up to the sky

A pigeon drops an arrow in my eye

by Gail

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s