Without Hope On vulnerable evenings the bed brings animals, death, to life Undressing the most instant nails while deepdown the worship begins a passion - a fear, to be of the same volatility as he is, yet to be in such shiny pain became a sort of petty peddling too - an act of doom There was kindness in our moves and his magical glances, right 'fore turning him being my accident again My deseo, the lapis colours my bi-feminismo, the Aztec icons In my defence: I was only 15 looking up - looking at him, mirrors, love, violence bareness, roots, la casa azul In my defence: a heart so full of pain, death, I can hardly descry the beasts at all. Dread for chain reactions, for bad quacks and swallowed spines. Praying for light shoulders, for some sun. I won't use my feet. Please hold me, Diego Kate Copeland Kate Copeland started reading libraries and absorbing her family's stories since she was a little lass. Her love for words led her to teaching and translating some dear languages. Her love for art led her to some ekphrastic poetry, bringing her to write her own poems too. The subsequent writing waves made their ways in publication...leaving a crave for more! She was born in Rotterdam some 51 years ago and adores housesitting in The United Kingdom and Spain.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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November 2024
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