Creative Banter (Bargain Basement Haiku) Postcard Poetry 2015

Sing me a voodoo lullaby in a language now extinct.

Weave me a turban of whisky and promises.

Feed me hand-picked apricots

soaked in the sweet salt of Harlem.

In return

I will sculpt you a word

out of the faintest of moonlight.

One word,

carried on the shoulders of angels

not yet named by God.

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