Widow Box Poem by keith murray
Widow Box
The cold and narrow widow
kept her husband's skull by the window,
filled it with earth,
grew flowers from the eye sockets
till all she could see was blossom
vibrant, fragrant, winding,
strangling blossom.
He always hated the sight of flowers.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
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4/26/2024 12:16:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
