William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Given

A winter afternoon spent trying this word and that word and erasing them both, until the room I am in is given to darkness — even death agrees — if not with the method, then at least with the progress.

 
Given

Suddenly a ripe plum

and how her sweet flesh aches in the mouth

in memory of melted snow

running down

a country

road

Categories: New Poems & Pieces

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