Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


LINE by MILO DE ANGELIS

First Line: TO THE HEAD BOBBING IN THE GUNSIGHT

To the head bobbing in the gunsight
we preferred an
illness of cold degrees and withdrawals: this too is
hate, I know, but this
twig turns idea pursued for
a year in limbo. And we, applause
faded, inhabited the night,
the elusive, marvelous springboard. Penetration
of sun in grain, which is mother. Survivor
whose name is father.


Used by permission of Story Line Press.



Home: PoetryExplorer.net