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  • New Poem: Lint

    LintHow I love the man who cleans my lintHe sits beside me clucking as he strokes''Do you fell better now?'' he asksMy black skirt ripples in his lapI would build a boat for himSkim the seas with scarlet sailsI'd give him gold butterflies--Twine them in his beardBut I sit still, sated, stupefiedAnd that is why he does the workHe always does ...
    Posted to Poems by elisabeth on December 12, 2008