Saturday, November 29, 2014

Untitled winter poem by Dorothea Grossman





Untitled winter poem


by Dorothea Grossman
 
This winter feels colder than ever,
or maybe I'm just more sensitive
these days,
when the wind is
a fire engine
and the moon is sinister
and blue.
I’m all bundled up for it,
stamping my feet,
drinking rum,
counting the days
until the yellow flowers.












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