Luke J. Holt
Laudanum - Poem by Luke J. Holt
I am the mossy air
coughing computations into the torpid billow of curtains,
i have come to feel as though my sadness has sired a warrior s soul;
warring on me
battling only I, himself.
i wait at tolls shooting storks from the sky
i ll breathe you a lake
and please refuse it
you want an ocean?
a god s lung is needed
i am the Vietnam of the clean camp
Mother Laudanum waits
with an indifferent stethoscope
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