The Mirror Circus Poem by Daniel Thomason
The Mirror Circus
Restless burdens sing in grotesque gardens,
Dead zinnias twirling in an evening wind,
The blackened buds grazed with the grim reaper's scythe,
And mortar and pestle and old dying eyes,
Shriveled mirrors dance in abandoned circuses,
Dreams falling from trapezes to an unordered dismay,
The hearts poured in jars by the apothecary's wives,
Now that morning and nightfall will fall from the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 7:31:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
