A poem by Kona Macphee

  Poem for Lily Song For Chris, i.m. Lily   When January takes up residence in curt encampments all about the Summer Palace, daily the shield of ice across the lake is thickened by another ward of frost; and though the fishermen on wide-legged stools each morning re-inflict the round incisions night has thinly healed, and drop to black their importuning lines, there will be … Continue reading A poem by Kona Macphee