Sunday, March 15, 2020


corona 2.

Sunday wears a beaky mask
stuffed with sweet herbs and flowers
meant to hide the smell of sickness
my son has the first apocalypse dream
we drive to the beach at dusk
and talk about ghosts
until I cry but I keep the tears
inside my eyelids
I dream a conga line of men
in my yard dancing their way into the ocean
dropping one by one
I am ripe and my blood is high

4 Comments:

Blogger Ms. Moon said...

I feel like I am there.

March 15, 2020 at 10:54 AM  
Blogger Radish King said...

Thank you dear Mary ❤️

March 15, 2020 at 11:07 AM  
Blogger Andrea Blythe said...

Beautiful work.

March 17, 2020 at 10:52 PM  
Blogger Radish King said...

Andrea. This means so much to me. Thank you.

March 18, 2020 at 6:59 PM  

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