THE HOBBY OF FRIEDA ROSE (August Postcard Poetry 2018)

She lives like a ghost

Fourth floor above him

Mute, invisible

Sleeps with the moon.

He lives like a poet

Personal hell below her

Driven, impossible

Drinks ink from the night.

Words float between them

Written, unspoken,

Abundance of imagery

Coating the walls.

He puts out recycling

She ransacks the bin

Creating a kimono of prose

Sashed with haiku.


Copyright 2018



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