Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

In Through The Out Door


Coming home to what I have.
Thoughts that I have borne in your head.
Makeup has erased your face.
Powdered cheeks mother, daughter when lead.
To represent all I have said.
Have I what you have never thus had.
Mrs red bush once green leaves few would leave.
Tall trees and their girth you have felt.
In through the out door.
The out door brown mat on the floor.
Blue veined thighs.
White marble the floor in the light.
Such are the feelings I feel in my heart.
In through the out door a lot.

Submitted: Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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