JENNY PAPALEXANDRIS

the secret is in the hill, buried with time and white occupation, cleared and manicured, your Red Ceders only a remnant, bound to grace rooms and hold the family silver in your drawers, the ode to the Majesty, stone walls subdivide you, built by Irishmen. You are at my door, i walk your paths, your secrets are never safe…dont whisper them to me.