i tuck my wings

beneath the seams

of indelicate triage

a fuselage of time’s

bounded barrage

disparage at cost of trade

beyond the parade

of a rippled montage

while we play charades

with bombs and brigades


i have been sweetly remade

by hands that assuage

this voluptuous volumetric

the balance of whispers

in my high places

entrained to the castle’s keep

i steep my notes raw

as you sleep and wake

beside and inside of me


© M.G. Iannucci 2019

“Woman over 50 too old to love, French author Yann Moix says”…while the world burns we worry about this?

Art: “Purple Butterfly”

10 thoughts on “Volumetric

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