Friday, July 1, 2011

Poem #12

At some point in my twenties, I began numbering my shorter poems. I was probably being artsy fartsy. I wrote this after a long hard no good awful winter in eastern Washington, in an eighty year old house without insulation or much in the way of heating.

#12

Upside down
the world looks very green
and wide   The moon
is full
of empty promises
as you swing sideways
into my horizon.  Too early
still
for certainty   Winter
took so long
leaving
but upside
down
a corner of your shoulder
is prophecy of spring.

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