Show me your fist
as if I didn’t know
you could hold it.
I never feel the blow
in my memory.
I’m too far out to row
through the possibilities.
Look at this beautiful
mess, the frailty
of your dutiful
voice: a perfect mess
you yell and yell.
©Samantha Kolber 2013
1 comment:
reminds one of the work of the poet laureate of rossendale himself, fran byrne.
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