Only a promise
You fell
through yourself
what was known
the war flickered
in the evening sky
Her hand was warm
what were her words
not for us
not for us
Floating face down
“Returning to the palace of shadows
in oblivion singing the night song”
The grammar of cities―lousy
We rule―floating face down
The rest
Put it between a piece of bread
or send it to die with the rest
Should there be a table—
push it away—and forget it
was ever there
A selection of Poetry by Michael March
By: Michael March - on: Wednesday 13 December 2017 - Genre: Poetry
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