A belated Valentine's Day poem.
-------------------------------------------------------------
We have a flush of heater scent,
of winter, to cellar in wool;
our hearts (pomegranate rust)
do a preemie knock. They simply
want in, to struggle through condensed
books, stargaze under lighter fluid.
--
It feels like a vessel--
--
yours is a Bobcat of the Ukraine;
mine, a Lily of the Elephant.
We live in the Zoo
of World Famous Snow
under ice ribs, and we ring
the bell of this cage all evening.
1 comment:
Really nice.
Post a Comment