Lull

It was a non-sleep an un-sleep a pseudo-sleep replete with
Witholdings of a heart trapped in the trappings of a trappist
Pistolero my old man who thought what thought thought
Thoroughly roughly laughably languished guised as lovely love
Loverly louvered for the ghost of that hostaged agedly leening
Lynching the wind wickedly with his whistling sling lingering
Malingering ringing in my ear to hear the near death defying
Edifying defiant antithesis of desire siring the aspirant spirant
Spiralling linger piraling longer a loner we aspire to become
Comely in the comedy of our tragicomedic tragedy traveling
Trapped am I in time and thine in space in paced pacing betwixt
Better or worse my kingdom for a horse or for a king sans dom
Domitably doomed are we together to gather to get to sleep
Spleening over yet another Arab Spring for the slove of snore.

Fatima Lasay, Quezon City
Saturday, April 12, 2014

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