Under a right-royal grilling -
out-juicing hours,
axial on tilted spit,
seasoned with sweat.
Vacant glaze by evening:
everything conveyed what it might
of entangled trails.
Directing sunlight
re-deployed shadows till
dusk talked among itself.
..
YOU ARE READING
Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
