Wednesday, February 11, 2015

these dreaming houses

early morning with
the sky hung like some
forgotten war
over these dreaming houses

pale light
and no shadows and
all of my old poems
seen clearly as

and art is not her problem
but artists

not the woman
who dreams she's a nun but
the boyfriend tying her
to the corners
of the bed

her sister shaking and
dropping the baby
to the cold kitchen floor

all it does anymore is cry

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