Monday, November 24, 2014

poem || Jeff Harrison

Queen Nab

nabbed already the lap
silver gap
looking wise
where root is snow-colored
hair a white pillow
a bit of a shock to earn
below blossom's wage
lips over eyes
sleeping cloud, be snow
your grasses white
forgiven be which can end,
grass brains
winter-dead
you wet heat dead
of wood and dead
skin-icy a body's underside
fold its mirrors
nab the ringing
turn the birds into stream
wind up your black rose
rain seat ripe
a depth's lily sea in chains
think "a line of paint"
that will money up your found love

No comments:

Post a Comment