Enamel Poem by Leslie Philibert

Enamel



Curved and simple
as milkbone,
used as a hidden grail,

a pale listener.
When the morning rain calls
we carry buckets into the yard.

Warm lipped from mugs,
knights of clink and
clack, we triumph

over cobbles, flood past the latch.
We know grey and the
weight in one arm.

Sunday, May 17, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: natural
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