Today's poem is by Allison Benis White
[Underneath each seat was a small box...]
Underneath each seat was a small box we were asked to open.
In the living room once, white balloons twisted into the ghosts of animals.
How the snow globe, when shaken, relives the same shatter.
The sick mind is beautiful and cannot sleep.
Copyright © 2017 Allison Benis White All rights reserved
from Please Bury Me in This
Four Way Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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