untitled
N.L. Main
[nlmain@hotmail.com]
Moving towards grace
blind, stumbling through
desert streets
where yellow lines and red signs
meet.
Concrete buildings pushing concrete ideas
Conventions, convictions
Creating hungry arms and empty spirits.
I yearn for wind-swept hair,
The smell of wild flowers and dewy grasses
Apples yielding to needy teeth,
their skins such red temptations.
Poem © 2001 Nancy Mainville, all rights reserved
appears here by permission
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