The Annunciation Of The Egg
S
Sheena Blackhall
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Horses smell sweeter than lilacs.
Their buttocks are firm as a chaise long
Their eyes are lustrous as lilies
They canter like a brook across a ford.
Even now a horse is walking over my fragile memory
As if it was treading eggshells in a green field
The field I sucked like soda one summer’s day
Drinking it in with my eyes.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş