Monday, August 13, 2018

David Norris writes

These Golden Ladies of the Night  

we all have mirrors
in our bedrooms my
girlfriends and I we
are sometimes laughed
at by friends and others
stranger reflections
of ourselves in firelight
broken window shades
faint whisper in the night
out on the street the light
across the ceiling the lights
of cars pass ing by
rushing sounds whiz zing
sounds in our ears
between our pillows
the hollow of our backs
we roll into our sheets
bury ourselves beneath
layers of protectiveness
shiver sometimes I shiver
in the dark reaching for them
The Window -- Bert Scofield

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