i.m. Michael Hartnett
The desk calendar on its last leaves.
In the lampshade a tiny spider weaves
a winter shroud.
The sky is a single cloud
darker still to the west.
The skull of a martin’s nest
grins in the eaves.
i.m. Michael Hartnett
The desk calendar on its last leaves.
In the lampshade a tiny spider weaves
a winter shroud.
The sky is a single cloud
darker still to the west.
The skull of a martin’s nest
grins in the eaves.