Past Tense
And when you rip
those backhands
down the line,
and when your arms
close up to hold me blindly
I shut my eyes,
fold up into five,
I take it away and
I laugh and I lie.
I take it all.
And when the sun
bleeds through
those broken shutters
the TV is on
and I know
that I loved you.
A poem by Patricia D’Alessandro of Sacramento.
Published on 10.16.03
A poem by Bill Laws of Sacramento.
Published on 10.02.03
A poem by G.O. Clark of Davis.
Published on 09.25.03
A poem by Elizabeth Hanelt of Carmichael.
Published on 09.18.03
A poem by Lee Engdahl of Sacramento.
Published on 09.04.03