A Downturn In Economic Indicators
The moon
is a bay leaf
folded among the trees.
It is not.
There is no time
to love one another, the days
smear like wet ink.
It is the time
of the wolf.
We must feed him.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
