Thursday, March 3, 2011

First poem got published 20yrs ago this week

Dear John

I look away from the wall

away from your face

the blood is dripping from the table

and all the dishes are dirty

I try to picture your eyes

no one put out the bins

there’s a knife in the door

pinning the letter you wrote

I feel quite sentimental

about my photograph of you

even while it burns in the fire

I look back at the wall

and your face is there

your head on my pillow

and you body in my kitchen

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