Dear Nobody's Business--James Galvin
What did you expect
Threadbare me to do
With nothing to deflect
The gale of your remove?
The scanty sacred secret
Tries to thumb a ride
Through drubbed, irresolute,
And famously slippery light.
Like a spooky spark from an anvil
The sun makes a teary streak
Across the almost tranquil,
Which is the almost bleak.
What is threadbare me to do
When wind cleaves your summer dress
To almost all of you?
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Genius rhyme--lovely poem. And the missing line in the last stanza--again beautiful.
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