by Amy Lowell
Did the door move, or was it always ajar?
The gladioli on the table are pale mauve.
I smell pale mauve and blue,
Blue soft like bruises-putrid-oozing-
The air oozes blue-mauve-
And the door with the black line where it does not shut!
I must pass that door to go to bed,
Or I must stay here
And watch the crack
Last updated January 14, 2019