there are words for every living
thing. words that stretch their
necks out over the years and
repeat, repeat, and replace.
words that rust; words that fold.
there are words that bring the morning
in a gray bucket. there are words that
move the sky to a blue midnight.
those are the words i cannot
pronounce.
YOU ARE READING
poetry for the poetic: 5
Poetrythis is my fifth poetry book on this profile! please check out my other 4 x thank you for reading ❤️
