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Month 5:27 “Ceiling Lamp, Kitchen”

~kelly green

Beneath a flaring rim
(its inner cape pearl-white, one bulb
glowing edgeless as the moon
I saw last night partially hazed,
haze magnifying circumference,
moonlight leaking past boundaries)
I sit, eat red Cortlands, right-click, split
open mail with a silver blade
on a table off-center, just northeast of the lamp,
a fraction closer to night’s setting arcs
spied through panes of glass. Winters,
the bulb warms my brow the way
a green-striped mint suffuses,
emollient, a lenient palate.


by Therese L. Broderick

NOTES: This is one poem in a chapbook manuscript I’m now assembling. This version of the poem benefits from the feedback of three local poets.

About ThereseLBroderick

Independent community poet living in Albany, New York USA.

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