The White Ship (37) Poem by David McLansky

The White Ship (37)



(37) on the balcony


We stepped out through the sliding
To see the park from forty floors;
The lamp lights in the darkened trees
Formed snakes of green in the breeze.

(I saw the distance in her eyes
My wealth was now a wall
Would she love me for myself?
Would she love at all?)

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