When Poetry Threatens
There is a greasy odor in the air
At the window
across the room
the diaphanous wings of a fly
peal off accompaniment,
--a staccato--contradictory notes
to the stretched rays of a dying afternoon sun
falling on the face of my otherwise muse
And in her countenance
all I can see
is the potential of a growling dog ....
Copyright © Dalton Moss | Year Posted 2020
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