Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Forty-two
Winter 2016
Bruce Alford

I stare at your face
which is huge
You have been eating too much
away from home

Either that or I can’t see
A turning reflection on a quarter
And I look deeply into your seas
(of Nectar, of Showers, of Clouds)
that soak up everything
Like mud or a valley cluttered
with rocks at night and inside
all that
beetles twill like ballerinas.

About Bruce Alford

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