sculpture by Maxine Kim Stussey
SPARROW
It’s not the wind that lacerates
Not the wind that barks or howls.
The wolf at the door is a sullen soul.
I hear the whispering wings of owls
And feel the game that macerates,
The long trackless night like a hole
In the sky that drains the day of light.
What was big within is put to flight.
Where have you gone little sparrow?
Without you, dark is the way, and narrow.
THE MAN WHO CAN'T DIE
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GAHA: BABES OF THE ABYSS
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SPECIMEN TANK
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LOVE IT! You have a musical ear.
Thank you for sharing this poem.
Emily
Thank you for reading it!