|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| an ammonite is not a member of a biblical tribe your yellow room blue now your face touches mine briefly your child against your body a table between us an unlit candle dried flowers and grass and the ammonite: you me slipping on green rocks laughing in an east wind blinded sometimes by hair and horizontal rain disturbing sea birds and shale revealing life embossed on limestone and now radio voices filling the spaces in an absence of words a table between us dried flowers and grass and your face touches mine briefly your child against your body you watch from the door as i leave breath turned to stone in my hand |
|
All content © Richard Zola 2001.
Site design by Lancresse Web Design