Balefire by Ann Wood
ClaudeOnly I haven't slept yet.
Digging into the deep crates
of my essence and I take it out of there
forgotten things:
grandmother's silver slippers
and my old dresses,
smelled of naphthalene.
I took them out
and I made a nice buck.
I better burn them,
than others after me
to burn them with disgust.
I just left
grandmother's silver slippers.
Poetry by Ann Wood
Read 515 times
Written on 2019-10-22 at 12:39
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
ken d williams |
