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by Katie Dean



it could be a brick wall aged by war
scratched by cat paws slinking by with
their whore’s jaunt

it could be mortar, ferns growing on
the wall like slap-face rebirth

true red gleams through rot and age
through watermarks
layered bits of pondscumhandsweatcalloused
skin

it could be a window, a doorway. a lighthouse on the shore.

10/14/2008

Posted on 10/15/2008
Copyright © 2024 Katie Dean

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by A. Paige White on 10/15/08 at 03:20 PM

Yes it could. Gaining ground, back or fore, seems always to echo with battles - love and war - fought. Love the title to this.

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