top of page
Writer's pictureglenhaney

Stomp

What remains is what

Resists and what clings to thing we love.

The dead sing in my sleep

They go away when I twist the dial

And smile

Sometimes they romp and stomp

On the linings of inside out

And shout from the rooftop

“If you won’t come out

I’ll come down.”




12 views0 comments

Comments


bottom of page