Kerseja
By feeling stone chiseled, calloused
Marbles
from out of a pirate’s jar
I have made gold
And am talking to you
With a peg-leg
Where a hook arm was.
Wind blows my promises
Across the seam of an island
Where tiny, mad children
Reconvene
to sand castles,
hiding jubilant treasure..
Burying us.
Justin Kirby, Copyright 2010.
Posted in: 1. Poems
Posted on March 2, 2012
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