Category: micropoetry

storm

it’s a storm.

& she’s raging
proud & strong & convulsing
tornadoes
deep in my moaning belly.

how do you say sorry to the dead,
when they lie beyond any need for forgiving,
having forgiven all,
a long time since ?

Red & Blue.

Red:
scarlet-red branchlings-
springtime dances
in autumn colours.

Blue :
at the leafy, mulchy
foot of the red,
tiny among dormant wild strawberry,
a blue flower.