3 poems by Robert Verdon

glad and young

possum-thunder across the tin roofwakes half of Ainslie, it seemsthe rain comes down angryat the world and cats spat in thedarkest corners of the houseas they have done for decadesand I cannot sleep now forfretting about the mortality ofit all, and I roll over and dreamof you, there we are always youngenough to forget the earth gapingor smoke drifting acrossthe new moon like a witch, and inthe morning I rise and leave again,while you sleep on in the next room,and over coffee ...

...

To read the rest of this article Login

or purchase a Digital Subscription