Untitled
by James McLaughlin
[ poetry - november 11 ]
1
The mind confers
if the red tipped
green
eyed Anthurium
sewn in folds
gathered into a sort of white abyss
gives almost a flavour - a reaction
as remit inclination
a nuance forgiven
on each stalk
contained
flickering on
a single
crystal rain
drop
2.
often in dreams
I might cry out
wondering why you let me fall
I feel that jerk
asking why I’ve been left alone
too long
each morning seems the same
I turn and feel empty
As the air
