Statue Poem by Tom Clark

Tom Clark

Tom Clark

Near West Side of Chicago / United States

Statue



The angel asked, as his shoulders were pressed into the stone
Why me? And taken away from the inhabited body,
Like the lyric voice rustling from memory forests,
Childhood rushes toward death, a wind in those woods,
Crashing through trees, dying out,
Settling like a white mist over everything.

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Tom Clark

Tom Clark

Near West Side of Chicago / United States
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