Moving (Iv) Poem by Jacqui Thewless
Moving (Iv)
With each extra year,
the heel-treads sink
deeper in sand, in mud:
weight, unimaginable
as my self. I open
poetry books as slim as every one of them is.
Spiritual
whale, swallowed whole,
inverted Jonah, I
read only a single poem's five
brief lines and slip,
naked as the familiar sea,
into me.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry
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9/19/2024 12:18:38 AM # 1.0.0.1119
