Skip to main content

Beginning


ISSUE:  Summer 2011

Across three fences
the lights and noise of a party at anchor;
a paddock dusty
with stars; our lit-up talk
forgettable.

The distance is years from there
to where
your sleeping breath
is at my neck,
your indelible kiss on my mind.

0 Comments

By submitting this form, you accept the Mollom privacy policy.

Recommended Reading