My Dear Interrogates The Sun - Poem by Douglas Scotney
'What did you hear late that day? '
'Listen. I was finishing my shift
lighting up cloth and curtain
careful as candlelight,
and hi-liting white sculpture
in backyard bushes
and white homes at the end of town.
Light is what I do my dear.
I do nothing to do with ear.'
Comments about My Dear Interrogates The Sun by Douglas Scotney
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You