Cubists In Surburbia

monday’s twilight dimming
on the last few brown leaves
of dreary autumn,
thin branches jut
like grissini
from camouflage-patterned trunks,
it’s the plane tree the tree
the Cubists loved the most,
the light, green grey,
they loved that too.

by Pam Brown

Other poems of BROWN (21)

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