tagNon-Erotic PoetryBroken Sonnet

Broken Sonnet


It doesn't rain, anymore, in April.
March is still miserable.
At least, it is when the slush slumps down-
Intolerably grey-
Into the stooped, fallen sidewalk
Like milk sopped porridge;
Seeping around, through, and past
Rubber and acrylic,
And warming
Between itching toes;
The distant eye

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byEnithermon© 2 comments/ 2552 views/ 0 favorites

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