Two excellent poems from Dominic Fisher today. Happy #NationalPoetryDay
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Glass wing Smooth between finger and thumb in the earthbut still jagged, a piece of bottle glassrefracts as you lift it and find it holdsa bubble like the absence of a seed. I don’t know what I’m doing, what it meansto be coming back here day after day. On a stalk, dessicated-looking, dead, a moth passes for a scrap of dry leaf.
