|Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 24, 2018 at 4:55 AM|
I have unfolded my poetic wings
they have no feathers and the downdrafts
makes it impossible to soar
Tomorrow the doctor will see me, I have to walk
on a treadmill, just like Oscar Wilde
he wrote a book about it, I’m more modest
perhaps I can get an alternative poem out of the test.
I fear my doctor he has got cold hand and looks at me with distaste.
What I fear the most is a petrified blaze that turns roses into
bright diamonds no one will ever see and that oil spill
will cover the oceans with a rainbow slush.
Can`t tell my doctor this, he will only give me a pill for it.