Wrong MorningA Poem by Leslie Philibert
This is the half time between night and morning, a wasted land,
so climb over the wire, a foreign arm smuggled on to my body,
my real body gone,copper light everywhere in my bedroom
and a bird tape running, there are ghosts outside
banging bins and roaring - this a half-broken moment,
there are demanding voices ,the sky is locked down
watching out of myself, the stained paint on the ceiling,
pictures of people from the middle of the earth.
© 2012 Leslie Philibert
Added on June 16, 2012
Last Updated on June 17, 2012
AboutI`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..
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