No Gloves

pillow-butterfly-copy

Remember red admiral,
Oh, capital captain winging
It’s hard to port and make for the woods for the nettles
They are rising

And poetry comes with poison spines
That bend through the blue blooming bower
For the poet that wears no gloves at all
To dull the senses and cower

3-27-16

Art by Alison Fennell

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