I am early / the train is late / the image is ubiquitous as false nettle / poetry is a red cat in a sunny window / lying to get out.
We awake to the muffled chaff of rain
as the grey down of clouds roundly tussle
for the pleasure of concealing dawn.
The written version of this poem has disappeared. Find a reading and a link to other work by this poet below:
To read or hear more work by Bonnie McClellan-Broussard, click HERE