The Moss at Wimbledon Station, poetry by Christian Ward at Spillwords.com
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The Moss at Wimbledon Station

The Moss at Wimbledon Station

written by: Christian Ward

 

Spinach-snow if we’re aiming
for precision. A flattened
wig of it on the roof’s
corrugated scalp. Outlasting
the cold bringing everyone’s
bones to the surface it might.
Summer may force a surrender,
make the stragglers slip into cracks.
Stop by later to watch
the birds fatten themselves
on its bitter prayers.

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