Digital Camera
The history-cracks in my palm
cradle you as my eyes
peer into your square screen,
stare the length of my arm out
to a created earth. I see
blossoms and beatles,
bruised bodies and bent buildings
and sometimes there is more
colour in the tagging
than in the rainbow
in my garden.
1 comment:
Hi Karen,
Nice poetry you write. You should get it published.
And thanks for commenting on my blog Testing Blogger Beta
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