Poetry Wednesday
To mark the middle of the week, we give you a poem by Richard Krawiec, from his collection, She Hands Me the Razor.
Love Turns
milk will not uncurdle,
river upwards into the carton
seeds can’t climb through soil
and leap back into pods
the phantom limb remains
an empty, folded pant leg
for a while you smile, mouth
those same three words
while your heart adjusts
its top hat, scarf, then strolls
jauntily out the door
