A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
Little polished rump of mud, your wings are useless as the old archangels. All night the rain pelts down on your fumy house. You are the garbage heap’s midnight eye, all dark oil. You are the dirty jewel, the cursed black pearl hidden in the opalescent walls of morning. Slippery brother! You are the secret bead in the rosary of reviled things.
Copyright 2020 Susan Kelly-DeWitt. From Gravitational Tug (Main Street Rag, 2020). Originally published in Runes: A Review of Poetry.