For the European Poets


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Before I knew it the arms had folded into themselves.

Feet, legs, teeth, lips, the same.

Then I went out for something to eat.

Nobody stared.

I ordered ate and left.

Then I walked for awhile.

Past buildings and into a green park.

A boy laughed.

An old woman shook her head as if to say

His mother should have brung him up by hand.

No one bothered me.

The park was peaceful.

But the sun had puppets in it

So I went back to my room.

Its bed, its chair, its desk,

Its clock and its book,

Its lamp, its drawer,

Its paint, its window,

Its arm, and its lip, its foot,

Its tooth and its leg.



All poems by Br. Tom Murphy, O. Carm.

My Poems

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