A POEM & A POET IN RE(AR)VIEW
A POEM: BALTIC COAST
There are spaces
between these words
that contain
small histories
personal & communal
there is always
a little wind
& often the smell
of turf wet stone beer
"a thistlebag of herbs"
I know again reading this
a friend's death
in a fortress on Innishmoor
& I am afraid that I know
Here is a chain
of measured breath
& saliva
hung as amulets over the rowdy sea
In love
grief is almost acceptable
listen the quail
"whistles in bleak attendance"
I step forward after a night
inside this poem
a heathflower in one hand
a bottle of vodka...
There are spaces
on the Baltic Coast
I would not have chosen
to inhabit
before they entered me
A POET
ill, ill
By Ms
Anthony L.
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