The Porch Poem by Ruth Stone
The Porch
Whatsoever comes to the screen,
firefly or moth,
I lean back in the wicker chair,
the porch my fragile skin
between me
and the gorgeous open maw,
the suckling swallowing world.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: firefly
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8/6/2026 6:41:45 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
