Flotsam and Jetsam
As much chance as a man with no limbs
trying to swim.
The cherry blossom
breaks against the shore of the house.
It breaks against the shore
of the house in the morning
you will be gone.
A Rosary of Excuses
The bloody trotter your mother
wore around her neck.
The toenail clippings your father
made into soup.
That china pot your brother
kept his silent heart in.
The thoughts that climbed your spine
in their Halloween masks.
Those erotic emails you sent
after two bottles of wine.
The bath we made love in that became
a maternity ward of lilies.
--
Bio: Adam Warne lives in Norwich. He would like to be Dylan Thomas but has neither the literary flair nor a tough enough liver.
Poetry in Aldeburgh 2017
6 years ago
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