Sweet poet sister,
lush words, lush life,
lush insight.

City to city
sugared with Atlantic sand.
Sister, do you feel cold
when lake blows ice
and no waves slither
to the shore, but prairie
spreads instead?

Even in the press of crowd
do you hear New York City
hue and cry, Gershwin
spun east on highway wheels?

I don't know how it feels
inside your shoes or eyes,
but we are kinship.

Poetry implies.

Woman is a way of knowing,
faceless and enjoined.

Report Story

byAngeline© 11 comments/ 4506 views/ 1 favorites

Share the love

Similar stories

Report a Bug

1 Pages:1

Please Rate This Submission:

Please Rate This Submission:

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Please wait
by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

There are no recent comments (11 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (11)

Add a

Post a public comment on this submission.

Post comment as (click to select):

Preview comment

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: