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Bring pheasants bring cartwheels
Bring dark hallowed halls
Bring the quiet whisper
Whom no one thought to call
Bring a lamp
A can
A crucifix
Someone to lean against
Bring my mother
My son
In the dark and disorder
I won't go on alone
Without a home.

Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2008

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Denis Joe Date: 12/16/2008 10:08:00 AM I like this and the flow of it works very well. It didn't register at first because the opening line is so anocronistic: it just doesn't seem like the sort of statement from a modern poem. And yet it fits so well into the narrative and creates an ideal and in doing so creates questions for the reader. What more can one expect? Login to Reply