The Moon Thin And Neurasthenic Poem by Bernard Henrie
The Moon Thin And Neurasthenic
The moon thin
and neurasthenic,
broken like eggshell;
silver across our patch
of yellow turnips,
the crisp shallots.
The moon on our billowing
poplars;
I offer you this withered
hour. My rough glove
holds your rough glove.
Friday, June 7, 2013
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10/30/2025 7:43:39 PM # 1.0.0
