Spiral Poem by Roddy Lumsden
Spiral
These years lift over coldly now: Aprils
and Augusts are gifted to ice, or sprawl
into mid-summers or year ends—pillars
of lesser standing. Still come no replies
to boyish queries, how the belly sleeper
buoys, begins again, becomes poor soul
or bull of appetite; why when the pearls
drop, no spool dares connect the ripples.
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: pearls,standing
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8/15/2026 8:13:41 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
