| Table of Contents | Words: Alphabetical - Frequency - Inverse - Length - Statistics | Help | IntraText Library |
| Visar Zhiti Poetry IntraText CT - Text |
The
prisoner is
Always behind some locked door.
It
must be noon by now, sunlight outside.
My eyes are fixed upon the heavy wooden portal. It glitters all over
Like the phantasmal cover of a book
Never published.
The
gnarls flushing so florid
Like the blood of fresh wounds.
Cutting
off twigs
Is a sore point wherever you go.