Leslie Philibert

Freshman - 816 Points (6th March 1954 / London, England)

Untitled Poem by Leslie Philibert


The sun moves above me
but not in an honest way.
The morning smells of burnt mallow.

A thousand windows open as if
someone important will visit us.
But the houses are empty.

Spinning with borrowed eyes the world unframed.
Look at this! the cypress trees have fled.
The doors are locked again.

Submitted: Sunday, January 27, 2013

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