Tuesday, 24 May 2011

one hundred schools

one hundred schools

are flowering in the desert like roses
a carpet of red
fed on bread and watered with

wine and stale sweat

are covering my mouth like lilies
a living sheen of
green exhaling and breathing in

the fumes of night

are creeping through the room like strangers
a comfort of grey
they whisper the wisdom of

one hundred schools

Russell J Turner – May 2011

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