The Saved Poem by Michael Brennan
The Saved
We were always mucking about
with the unmentionables,
trudging through the snow.
Winter closing around the heat
concocted by what our desires shared.
It wasn’t highbrow anymore
as we learnt to grind and crank
bodies, our saving grace, the fires
of hell these days reserved
for the faint of heart and feckless.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
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4/26/2024 1:02:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
