Hannibal Lecter Eats Maya Angelou
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams--Maya Angelou
Dear Maya...
A cage is not a grave;
otherwise, why lock it.
The leather cuffs might chafe,
the rubber ball may compress
your tongue to mute silence,
but in your blood, dark in dull twilight,
is the cry of the raptor
in its moment of flight.
You sing beneath my lips,
and I savor you phenomenally.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams--Maya Angelou
Dear Maya...
A cage is not a grave;
otherwise, why lock it.
The leather cuffs might chafe,
the rubber ball may compress
your tongue to mute silence,
but in your blood, dark in dull twilight,
is the cry of the raptor
in its moment of flight.
You sing beneath my lips,
and I savor you phenomenally.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson