The page opens to snow on a field: boot holed month, black hour/ the bottle in your coat half vodka half winter light./ To what and to whom does one say yes?
My next line:
Slowly one reaches in the coat pocket to take a longing sip of the vodka.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The page opens to snow on a field: boot holed month, black hour/ the bottle in your coat half vodka half winter light./ To what and to whom does one say yes?
My next line:
Slowly one reaches in the coat pocket to take a longing sip of the vodka.