Get Your Premium Membership

In the Fold

The walls are four-square grange-hall brown. We sit in folding chairs engineered to hold a body in place. We sit here like the law of possession. Could I wither into a seed so small I’d not be seen? Could I find a plot of soil where I might grow?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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

Date: 7/16/2009 8:27:00 AM
Very interesting Free Verse. Puts one to thinking,Taylor. Sara
Login to Reply