A Poem Holds Your Hand
M
Mark Heathcote
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A poem holds your hand
it whispers come-gather
these windblown fruits
eat of this sun's lather.
The bee stamens sting,
it's-like-a-gloved fist.
And, like the poet's pen
must die a little to coexist.
Vertigo dizzies itself on a cliff
like a blackbird in full song
the chorus is short-lived:
but it's-echoes-are-lifelong.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş