luca irving


luca irving Poems

Best Poem of luca irving

Responding To The Poem On A Wednesday Afternoon

There’s a rhythm to this room,
its hollowed sound,
the ten of us
scratching away
at the surface of
this poem,
uncovering the tiny seeds,
the husked secrets
crevassed into the
crystaled white of
memory.

The loudest of them
all, is the one with
the blue pencil.
The one who can’t stand the cold,
who is writing now
about the barren trees,
the tempered wind,
about the snowglaze she would have hated,
she is hating.
Her thoughts scream against the poem,
scrap,
scratch against
the lined white of her page, ...

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