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Evan Stephens
Poems
Apr 2021
Gaunt Green
A gaunt green so full of song:
a lark bunting nests in the holly,
under a marmalade chariot
with Catherine-wheels:
I mean both senses of the word.
Self-lashes leave stripes thin as days.
O, how I move my hands for you,
from pen to wrack, choking away
the sobs, sometimes, because
your city is far from this city;
but other times I run my thumb
across your kitchen scrawl,
across your glassed-in face,
across the things you touched
when the dream was living.
The gaunt blue princess
holly quavers beyond
the trellised net, thronged
with twig now: a little bird
caches its frail life away
from a cat o' nine tails sun
that is whipping & whipping.
Written by
Evan Stephens
44/M/DC
(44/M/DC)
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