DAVID CHURCH
In Spite of it All

 

There is no needle

long enough

to reach my soul

to make it

 

Sleep

 

No wine so strong

to flow so deep

to dull

 

Nothing

 

Not even lies

to placebo

such unrest.

But still I rise each day

The plants need water

and the animals must be fed


 

Mimi

She bled early in life

Father broke her

with his sword

And she learned early

How pain follows pain

Father taught with heavy hands

When old enough to hunt alone

She strayed

Sharpened her claws

on rough pavement

Those reaching to stroke her

Beware


 

February Night

Notheast snow falling

Fierce...in the wind

Chimneys shooting wood smoke

Barndoor creaking on

rusty hinge

Chimes Clink Clinking

 

Blackberry Brandy

smooth as flesh

Adding taste to the stillness


Volume 8 Index

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