Thursday, March 1, 2012

To Tide Me Over

when the shell is washed
ashore, the hand is waiting
to collect the walls
of an empty home
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1 comment:

  1. BrianMarch 3, 2012 at 8:04 PM

    Kay, These last two with their simplicity of diction and image covey the complexity only poetry can with its immediate, visceral power.

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