Poem Title Poem
A line, an exposition
extension of the pen,
cajoles its body with
quasi-critical realness
or deferrence. Speak
a form into mirage:
the trees on the date,
chemicals in its brain,
lasting words exchanged
between love and coffee stains.
3 thoughts on "Poem Title Poem"
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I love this, especially:
Speak
a form into mirage:
the trees on the date,
chemicals in its brain,
Second, Shaun.
Well done!
Yes, well done. So much in so few words, and I love the depths hinted at in the last line.