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Poetry
Boland
The black lace fan my mother gave me
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Created by
Jennifer crowe
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Cards (8)
First gift
it
was
the
first
gift
he
ever
gave
her
/
buying
it
for
five
francs
in
the
Galeries
for the summer
they stayed in the city for the summer
nervous movements
he
looked
at
his
watch
she
stood
up
early/late
she
was
always
early
/
he
was
late
pathetic fallacy
she
thought
the
distance
smelled
of
rain
and
lightning
the fan
it
is
a
worn
out
underwater
bullion
and
it
keeps
/
even
now,
an
inference
of
its
violation
a
man
running
/
and
no
way
to
know
what
happened
then
/
none
at
all
-
unless
of
course
you
improvise
suddenly
she
puts out her wing
/
the
whole
full
flirtatious
span
of
it
