At Night
this is the moment after the loss,
the garden as heavy as a standing horse,
as a frozen moon hangs like a buoy at ebb
north is the direction of winter,
a stripped.down world before the crawl
i hear your letting down of the shutters,
your steps tired up the stairs
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment