WATERMARK

a poet’s notebook


Established 02004

august 21 (an old poem)

you write

that you are ill
feverish

in some narrow
foreign bed
tangled

in dim
damp sheets
sun steaming

through a dingy
window
and I hope

that you are not
entangled so
alone

what cannot
be held must be
freely given

    shell

 

One response to “august 21 (an old poem)”

  1. lovely… if only i could weave emotions into words half as well.

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