![]() by Dark Setsuna clings to his kiss He will take me wound in eagle's wings, high over the plastic houses where men and women disentangled lie like mismatched dolls, the morning after the taste of disenchantment collecting tartly in their mouths. I long to fly but, moment to moment, must cling to him to remember longing, to renew beleif, to assuage the terror of flight. ![]() | |