Wednesday, March 30, 2016

#83 Kevin Brophy ‘Bonfire afterwards’

The book of poetry I read today
had an old paint tin under the fence,
a dead snake by the verandah,
part of its boundary fence collapsed under
a fallen trunk, some rubbish in the far corner
beneath a wattle tree, two bird baths,
a rising sun, a forest path, several lovers and

a growing pile of cut grass, logs and branches
readied for the bonfire that will be lit
once the poems have been properly read,
highlighted and returned to the shelf.

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