by Josephine Miles

Josephine Miles

Send me a voice from the store.
I stop
Under a leaf-letting tall tree
To light
The spark to lip and keep the prospect stirring.

Such a still night, a pelt of growing grounds,
But sounds
Sheltered, conserved, enclosed.
I talk
Inside, studying on the paved road.

Buy me a big lingering line of talk then,
I'm foundered
At this post in the narrative dark
With not a whisper.
The great neighborhood bloom close as a.clam.

Collected Poems 1930-83

Last updated February 11, 2023