is held open by the saints
"Come in," they insist
-short Italian monks
They show me their liqueurs
"You will need these for the storms"
And I was afraid
that colour would never return
It leaves the trees and enters my cheeks
15/11/07
copyright 2007 Trevor Haug
from "West of Vancouver, Poems from the Island"
1 comment:
Hey Trevor - I'm gonna give this a nice unrefined, non-academic comment. I just love it and how I feel now having read it is the entire point anyway. NO?
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