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A poem by Nicholas Laughlin

Published in The Strange Years of My Life


I saw it myself, the sun that dropped
in a lake of blue milk.
A blue god, bird-mantled,
sweating honey.
Golden captain, Christmas astronaut,
dropping like a pearl,
and the highest air, hot glass,
sticky horizon. I saw it myself,
I have blue milk on my hands,
doubting Matthew, doubting Jude.


Read more poems by Nicholas Laughlin