The Living is Easy
There are garlic shoots
under our naked arches
we come to this place
to pick the honeyed clover
to revel in a dream summer
our finger laced together
in a child's clasp or a
silver lover's claddagh
but in the waking hour
we shiver under blankets
and our toes trace night
circles against the sheets
our voices are low growls
No comments:
Post a Comment