This poem is taken from Stand 217, 16(1) March - April 2018.
Four Poems
On Being Dead
Gas off, a snatch of headlines.
My son offers me a cheek to kiss.
On the corner, I know ice’s mischief.
The hill by the hospital is free.
...
Gas off, a snatch of headlines.
My son offers me a cheek to kiss.
On the corner, I know ice’s mischief.
The hill by the hospital is free.
...
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