They promised
Showers, blizzards
And downpours,
They warned
Against lizards;
They preached
On devils,imps,
Nicaraguan tombs,
Bad hips,
Tangled limbs
On TV and beyond,
Moaning low
Building up
The Empire;
Water streaming below
What you've known
And things you just had
To admire.
All those bound south,
But going up north
With magpies
Crying in ditches
Learn how
To lie low,
To talk to the storm
And make friends
With lepers and witches.
You're head over heels
In something
That dims
The distance and harshness
Of voice;
You are on your own
Wearing crown
Of thorn-
You'll have to
Pull off
And rejoice.
Low Heat
© Copyright: Лиза Ройт, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116021301384
Свидетельство о публикации №116021301384
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