Poems by Phoebe Marrall

THE SAME PRIVACY   These I saw: small onions laid with their root discs punctuating the longitude poles. Polar caps,  yes, navels to the earth where  their buried unions still hold.   That space along the stalls, unpeopled on this damp morning, stops me (for it insists), with the  white parking lines leaping  to the … Continue reading Poems by Phoebe Marrall