Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Twenty Summer 2009 |
Dreadful Helper Michael Opperman Little that can be seen from the window, A terrible chimney, candles at the boutique. Though the hand is moving slow - Brushing dust from the bottles (Revealing labels not to be believed, Pharmicist), Everything is a rushed blur. The life is a bruised eye; A morning is nothing more than an evening knocked down a flight of stairs. |
About Michael Opperman |