by Josephine Miles
Send me a voice from the store.
I stop
Under a leaf-letting tall tree
To light
The spark to lip and keep the prospect stirring.
Such a still night, a pelt of growing grounds,
But sounds
Sheltered, conserved, enclosed.
I talk
Inside, studying on the paved road.
Buy me a big lingering line of talk then,
I'm foundered
At this post in the narrative dark
With not a whisper.
The great neighborhood bloom close as a.clam.
From:
Collected Poems 1930-83
Copyright ©:
1983, University of Illinois Press
Last updated February 11, 2023