An extra oath.
It hushes its own rifled respirations, warmed slew of slushes,
Bygone and pearline pinked gut punches.
To look now you'd swear you were facing a Polidori
From that crumpled bit
Of New Orleans--
It is after all a physical place--a thing
Inundated with verdant swill--look and smell,
With dreams--
With dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment