Heirloom CemeteryWill Grofic
The future ripens in the past The past rots in the future -Anna Ahkmatova What I have is a medal, a ripened plum, small enough to call my own. What my son will know: tenable but not edible. Illegible as a home. Mine is a purple veil, the present re-gifted, a mixture of blue veins and oxygen red wakes the sky and mind, awaiting the present: tenable but indelible, as illegible as blame dusts the earth. What branch lowers without fruit? The aroma is withholding. The aroma without full context.
Will Grofic Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2022, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|