Three Poems

Cinema Paradiso

On a morning in November

words appeared at the end of my pen
like the answer to a question
I hadn’t yet asked.

One became a condor, another
a cloud,
while a third word, spinosity,
came to life in the dream of a thistle.

Which is more real,
the snow or the snowball,
the word or the letters of which
it’s composed?

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.