Leslie Philibert Poems
A Dry-Stone Wall Near Coleraine (For Seamus Heaney)
As if the pale stones
share the warmth
between two sides;
sea and field cut,
early light and full morning;
the path weathered and slow.
Not About You
Not about the way
you spread your fingers across your mouth,
playing shocked, then laughing.
Not even about your hair, straw.gold,
that moves across your forehard,
a mantle for northern paleness.
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