Poems by Geraldine Connolly
The Summer I Was Sixteen
... blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears,mouthing the old words, then loosened ...
Blue Bridge
... that jumps like a hot coal off the track ...
New Territory
... here, in cave-like niches, the Blessed Virgin, ...
Flathead Lake, October
... s open curve, as surely as he swoops and seizes ...
