In the Rush
by Jonathan Wonham
Dreaming shivering
take me in a photograph
pressed against the sky.
Take me in I am
air stung, ravenous
spread for me
dark and soft. Against
this withered morning
I will fit so perfectly in
right there slide me slowly
down metallic lanes
and revving, vanish.
Tuesday poem #571 : Anna Reckin : Linearity
6 days ago
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