by Ethel Mortenson Davis
A moon
caught me
by
the throat
and searched
my pockets
for a soul
till love
screamed
across
the pencil lines
of trees
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
A moon
caught me
by
the throat
and searched
my pockets
for a soul
till love
screamed
across
the pencil lines
of trees
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry