Implausible Birds
by K. Robinson
The sort of vase described in
Ian McEwan's novel, Atonement.
A gift. A curse on me self-cast. A Sino-sin
I signed with my intent, and all Verdun's
exploding wealth now written in my skin;
my brain forever battered by those guns.
Or was it a theft? Sometimes a man concussed
would seem quite sound, so peaceful in repose.
Inside - a soupy
Comments
Post a Comment