Sunday, July 19, 2015

 

Eaves



"My Great-Grandma!"


Deidre brightens at
the dim attic. Night


dresses hover-
ing about dance


programs under
gummy glass,


Class-Trip snaps,
but no scrap why


she ripped out
her heart for love.


Eaves whisper thus,
not ever to a one 
triumphant.

Labels: , , , , ,


Comments:
Sweet!
 
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?