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Poem: Morning Light 

At dusk
We sought the trolleycar
or trod the whole of wind and snow
from Sorrentino’s to Fusco’s Bar.
Fuel for one more morning row.

Oil leak on the kitchen floor
from rim onto linoleum.
Window broken.
Splinters jut the darker door.
In the distance churchbells toll
to granulated windowglass
and sugar in the bowl.

Start and stop,
start and stop

and hush.
A shoe to drop.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Pat McMullan.


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