The Poetry of LJ
I see petite porcelain figuresOn the chessboard of FranceLearning to danceI take them in my handTiny, refined, lined with goldCold crownsAgainst my skinThat fades in the torchlightOf dark, English stones.
C. LJ 2020
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I spent one summer at the piano, in the dark - only a single slant of light could ever get in through that low window, leaning yellow dust m...
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