III

Edward Gates
From:   Heart's Cupboard.

a coat of nails covers your soul
my shirt is nailed to your door

your nylons are wrinkled
my sweater shows through your coat

if I talk of portugal and black knights
it leads to poetry

varnish and warm wood        your eyes are glass
my heart is stained walnut

we part        you hate roses and gather
onions of hope

even the soft deep of a sunset
is lost to some unknown

Poem 1 | Poem 2 | Poem 3 | Poem 4 | Poem 5 | Poem 6

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