Wednesday, 20 April 2011

The Nine Hear Them

From Pascale Petit's Poetry From Art Course

Think of blossoming. There’s the closed bride door
and no escape when you cast shadows –
a locked canon. I don’t love you

appears costumed in a Greek toga.
The true Milky Way floats
between their soul-tongues and uniform.

We hunt for a bottle of Benedictine
but it’s still love three times three,
at different angles with the lights on in the cemetery.

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