Snowflakes fat
as bread
are informing
us that spring
is a chance
encounter
a vestibule to
an unbalanced mind
no one is
mowing the lawn
jolliness has
been obviated from the narrative
no one is sitting
on the porch
nothing is more
than a machine
if the moon
kisses me one more time
I will scream
hearts are
pounding
there is no
room for metaphor
close the
curtains
dream of your
extravagant desert
afternoons
filled with
sunflowers
craning
breaking their
necks
to eat the sun.
Lillian Necakov is the author of 5 full-length poetry books as well as numerous chapbooks. Her work has appeared in many print and online publications all around this fine globe. She lives in Toronto, where she runs the Boneshaker Reading Series.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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