Poems from corrin.bond
In a diner on Second Avenue,
a man in plaid the color of a muddy river bank
with skin that crinkles like wax paper,
sits every morning...
Holding my breath,
as the fire dies out,
and its embers ruminate a tender glow
upon a life in slow motion:
Where the nights come...
Even the moon moves, swollen with sorrow,
as she looks down upon the earth before tenderly kissing the sky good-bye,
leaving but a...
Remember...
The time I mistook indigestion for a baby,
and the eyelashes on my cheeks
for the end of the world.
When I thought as I...
A Eulogy
I’m the shell of a child in a town I’ve only ever shaken hands with,
and up to my elbows in oil and vinegar
with mustard on...