A Single Toll
by Frank Watson
Sexy chapel emptied
of its belling tolls and frenzied

crowds that gyrate to heaven’s

twisting tongue in bending talks:


I wonder how we lost that end

of longing seashore walks

with echoing gulls amid the piers


While entering an empty chapel

between the silent rows

that carve and split like apples

hearing but a single toll.


All writings and translations are Copyright © by Frank Watson, also writing as "Blue Flute" (2011-2014).
Year: 
2012