a palimpsest of storms almost forgotten

The Other Other Country
William Logan

I wrote you a brief but rather dull letter. ~T. S. Eliot

The days bled alabaster,
the nothing of sky over Paradise,

where the original sin was weather.
Did they miss the wildness

of the palms, the angels
who brought breakfast on tea trays?

Each dawn would be a palimpsest
of storms almost forgotten,

humiliation, love.

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