Komposite Sketch
Poems by Jim Connolly
Sunday, December 21, 2008
CHRISTMAS (LINED UP)
Yellow light slips through the slats
and on the naked wall it flips and
flickers like a voice through a fan.
Somewhere in the loft I cough softly.
Can't smell it. Can't see it. Can't hear it. Can't touch it. Can't taste it.
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