Metastophiles

Everywhere I look
and everywhere I turn
You ride me.

Your spurs dig deep
in your impatience
for my soul.

Be patient, Devil,
patience;
my mind is still whole
and my desire does not rest.

I'll not yet be ashes
for Your Urn!
And this...this to you I tell
without me
go to Hell.

by Judith Ann Kashuba

Other poems of JUDITH ANN KASHUBA (1)

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