rosette

surely we are
what we say

(speak who begs)

thirst does away with night

a blank back

in its hour
wrong

road in a lonely man
half of which
turns into a bird

wood
(how to carry)

low to wear a song

Copyright © 2008 Carina Gia Farrero All rights reserved
from Arsenic Lobster
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission