Lillian Susan Thomas Poems

Flash-fire of the final rays
Flames upon the walls
As if the battle rages again.
Intense light deep-shadows
...

at ebb tide
sanderlings nipping for clams
the receding waves
...

Hobos in holey coats
Would stand around the oil drums fires
At Santaland that could be enjoyed
From Thanksgiving to Epiphany.
...

Tree-top high,
thrashing in the branches,
the wind arm-wrestles the limbs
of cypress,
...

Two men on a roof
work in silence,
shirts off,
coppering on that slant;
...

toadstools in woods
over mass graves:
shiny skulls
...