®

Today's poem is by Peter Makuck

Breath
        We die of words—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Their echoes eddy,
vanish, and endlessly want more.
But once I quietly inflated two blue air pallets
for the children of visiting friends
and like to remember that night
when held lightly above our hardwood floor
they floated toward dreams
on my breath.



Copyright © 2017 Peter Makuck All rights reserved
from Mandatory Evacuation
BOA Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

Home 
Archives  Web Weekly Features  About Verse Daily  FAQs  Submit to Verse Daily  Follow Verse Daily on Twitter

Copyright © 2002-2017 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved