Missive in an Icelandic Room 3

Clever remarks were no good,
Elizabeth realized. A sparrow was a sparrow,
and would never be a proper friend,

nor make up for the legions
of her childhood who'd abandoned her,
and left her to drift in this half-haze,
this country holiday without end.

Jesse Ball
Denver Quarterly
Volume 40, Number 4
2006

Copyright © 2006 by the University of Denver,
Denver Colorado, 80208.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.

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