Alice Alyve Poems

Rhyme, rhythm, meter.
I don’t know what that means.

I know words.
...

I found this grand thing.
In the gutter, down the street.

It sparkled and purred and sang and nibbled.
...

You sat down; your leg brushed against mine.
It stayed there and I stopped breathing.

You grew stiff, and I knew you were thinking the same thing.
...

I felt the sun on my shoulders;
it was a warm day for December.
A warm year.
...