walking home
from the last night shift . . .
I hold a copy
of my first chapbook
like the harvest of sorrow
Atlas Poetica, 22, 2015
A Room of My Own: Normal Life, A Soap Bubble
-
my friend turns
forty the age his father died
he mutters
*the Grim Reaper haunts me*
*like my walking shadow*
breaking news
at the first light of spring daw...