Seven

by sibyllene   Oct 12, 2011


The seventh son of a seventh son
is destined for oddity. He'll be born surely
during the new moon, when the
sky is darkest. His first words will be with
beetles, remarking on the weather. He
walks, long-legged, down streets that don't
exist, seeing what isn't there to see.

0


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments