Danger
By Samuel Dickison Posted in Poetry on April 20, 2017 0 Comments 1 min read
Six Decades of American Art Previous The Lowest Place Next

My wife raises children in a house
Full of knives and fire.
Electricity slithers through the walls.
Outside, stars fall like trees.

I warn her about this,
But she does not hear me.

She is throwing our children at the moon
And they are laughing
The sound of a thousand fullspeed suns
Crashing into the sky.


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