Click here to read “Thrownness and a Three-Legged Dog.”
Gun the poetry into the skin.
Ink the cherry tree
So it’s starved of flesh and stones.
But get the ice—
As lonely and sterile as that ward was—
Get it to melt a bit.
She will be spring.
Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Join 565 other followers
Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.