Poetry – “The Bay Laurel”

I cannot flood the grains of this dead tree with the same mastery you use to create Sapphics, My trunk left sapless, dull, and flaking, Dry clichés chalk my otherwise flowing casual and lyrical stiffness hovers over me, dead, hanging, Creaking hand forces over unrespiring skin, Forever in search of the elbow angel, Vibrancy paints…