-Patricia Thrushart
Sunday, March 31, 2019
Where A Lamp Is Lit
Light spills through a window
filtered by a broken blind
onto a littered street;
a flood of warmth
amidst blight.
I imagine
someone is sheltering there—
away from the graffiti
on the warped plywood
boarding up the next house,
the pawn shop wrapped in bars,
needles on the ground.
-Patricia Thrushart
-Patricia Thrushart
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
“When I Come Home” I get this feeling when I come home. It’s the feeling That I got- Today: when I crossed the Red River barreling toward Ja...
-
On the edge of Pawpaw's river property stood a gnarled persimmon tree we thought would wither and die but green then ...
No comments:
Post a Comment