Saturday, November 6, 2010

St. Leonard of Noblac (patron of political prisoners)


my mother told me not

to drag my feet through

the underbrush---but to get out


of those brambles as soon

as I could. I put all the thistles

in my mouth. Felt my cheeks

bristle.


I thought that

would make it easier.


we’re only here right now

because I’ve got a wasps’ nest

for a pillow and the wind’s so


restless that it blew

all the windows

closed.


the radiator is the only one

at home, tap-dancing

its way through the night.

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