[lit-ideas] Re: another Monday Poem

A lame poem


The sea slides into the keyhole
As the door is swung
Toward the cooing pigeons.
This is the Human Condition 
a woman bent scrubbing drops of spilled paint
off a harpsichord 
rusted by ocean spray.
What sways like the leaves of a catalpa tree?
What curls like serviettes over tea light flames
set in rows through coarse gravel?
What pounds like a heart
Lamely gimping toward a frail love?
Unless it?s a frail heart
Applying abject care
to a fine structure of neglect.



David

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