From What Morass Seeps Poem by james watkin

From What Morass Seeps



From what morass seeps
Night's murkiness?
Slimy, skirting walks'
Lava-hot impress

Of palpatating joys.
What water, dead
Of whose anguished looks
Sucked in, ahead?

Loathsome in its frog's
Belching, day's rose
As decaying matter
Brought to a close.

Friday, January 18, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: night
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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