A Trumpet Was it a trumpet? that resonated, that screeched that damned? When we danced and I held her and my lips moved closer to hers, was it that tiny yellow brass that said all this was a gamethat I was putting on this guise that I was donning the clothes of some other man? For what-an hour or two of idle leisure? Was it a trumpet? A yellow brass thing?
Adam Tod Leverton (firstname.lastname@example.org)
poetry by AdamTod Leverton