Summer Nights, 2006

Abigail Wadsworth Serfass
July 22, 2015
Comments 0

These are more like doors
that open with a strange slowness;
they turn outward like my palms,
shadows spread out on night’s walls.

The uprooted mango tree in our yard
is never in doubt
my love is returned.
It doesn’t evade the passing bird;
but today I will speak to no one.

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