If Only the Falkland Sound Could Whisper
rain fingers stroke the Daphne’s neurosis
motionless.
a laurel tree there.
rank-raw and austere, saucey and languid
fleckless like statue on a red room trip.
there’s this meticulous magic inventor
miming the locust in the elevator
genius and missionary
his chariot of polygon hares.
Copyright © William Greco | Year Posted 2016
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