Just The Way It Is(For Janice)
D Dónall Dempsey
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Here, always
in our back garden
the clouds form
themselves into a cauldron
& the sun
a white hot ingot
is flung
fiery into it
burning a hole
in the sky
as if God
(the sleepy sod)
has dozed off
& forgot
to put his cigarette
out.
Bu şiiri puanla
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