Southeast Nineteen Poem by Leslie Philibert
Southeast Nineteen
Rating: ★3.3
And this is what I need
When a statue drops
And flings porcelain
between my shoes.
Then comfort draws me
Back home
Down the street
Where I was made.
This is my special tragedy
The way the stars don`t move
In the night externa
They are over my house
Because they are.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Stars
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4/20/2024 10:00:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
