On the village green, bones of goalposts lean at both ends of the empty pitch. I ring-a-round-a-rosy, hugging sidelines, daisy-stitched, tanging of cut grass. Each time it passes, it fractures the stillness, the arrhythmic ebb and flow of traffic as it comes and goes. Kim M. Russell, 2017 My response to dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille […]
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