Excelcis Gloria
I’m going to include some stuff I wrote in the ’70’s from a ‘slight book of verse’ called They Don’t Give the Keys to the Cuckoos.
The small house is white
And the blue shutters give it
A colonial look
The gate creaks
And the path is overgrown slightly
The door opens
And the light behind you
Makes your silhouette
Bizarre
I don’t think
That you can understand
Just what I say
And I do not think
That you realise
What a fine target
You would make
The shell
Solitary
Weighs heavy in my pocket
You mutter a platitude
And I leave
Quietly
Behind the door
You gently
Pull the penultimate leg
From the fly
Lake Alice Hospital
30 03 74
dykiegirl 