Autogamy
a poemlog
11/27/10
Nebraska, circa '06
Our fingerprints mingle
on the lid of the sugar bowl
my hands smell like
dirt and death
the first robin of spring
lies in our bedroom closet
with a broken wing
look what the cat dragged in.
_
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment