271 Readings | 2 Ratings

Play-by-play


Snatched and held in the hollow of thorax is this:

rolled-up sleeves, a soft space slowly unfurling 

fern and frond — on and on in to waxing leaves, 


the sea whistling, a child running, 

the red brick somewhere singing.


Posted 12/14/12
Comments (0)
Would you like to leave a comment on this profile? Join Ink Node for a free account, or sign in if you are already a member.