poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

  Here I am with my mother, hanging under the molt 
of years, in a garden of umbrellas and rubber boots, 
together always in the vague perfume of her coat. 

  See how the fedoras along the shelf are the several 
skulls of my father, in this catacomb of my family. 

Added: 20 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 11 Feb 2012 11:48 AM | Viewed: 3061 times

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