Collaborate2011

Poem of a third sunday, Joan Fleming

In Joan Fleming, poetry on July 24, 2011 at 4:43 pm

POEM OF A THIRD SUNDAY

One, a willow tree

Two, a cello

Three, a basket of plums.

They are not ripe,
not yet,
but
they will be.

The cello
makes the air
afraid
of pretty
things.

Come
over here,
you young girls.

Show us your necks,
and the insides
of your
wrists.

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