By Matthew Petit, Contributing Writer
My love,
is a little beast crouching
in the woods near a grove.
The sycamore trees yawn at her presence;
the sun dapples against her brown fur.
When I visit her, she holds out her black hands,
cupped, wanting a crumb.
Instead, I give her an apple.
Do you like it?
No, she says, it is not a crumb.
It is sweeter.
But it is not a crumb.
The die-cut poster on display in the Reilly Center David Scibilia / The Bona Venture BY:
BY TUCKER REILLY, EDITOR IN CHEIF The St. Bonaventure University department of English hosted visiting poet
By Joe Giglio, Chattertons Love is a velociraptor a long dead predator we’ve only seen the
