Patrick Ruthra

Buried - Poem by Patrick Ruthra

Our sandbox
growing up had holes
in the bed of it
Pale as an hourglass
penumbra of a half-brick
half-aluminum two-story house
Rusted down
sifting rapture through our fist
crying out clouds
of our inheritance

Topic(s) of this poem: childhood

Comments about Buried by Patrick Ruthra

  • (3/16/2015 5:47:00 PM)

    A great poem, our sand box growing up was a hole with builders sand put in it. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 15, 2015

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