Wednesday, April 20, 2022

April 20.

April 20



before coffee or cricket before

the bullfrog’s unholy racket

just a book a cat staring at me

with her bright constellations 

and my wrist’s constant throb

it is in this quiet that I remove my 

head arrange it among corn

flowers and baby’s breath

in the florist’s refrigerated

case breathe the promise 

fragrance of gardenias in boxes

rose cramped arrangements 

elephant shaped vases for the ill

I’ll return for you at nine

I tell my empty skull

don’t worry I tell my blue 

blue eyes I’ll always come back

I lie without blinking and close

the soft fleshy door




3 Comments:

Blogger Elizabeth said...

Oh my god. This is magnificent. I want to copy it in my book and paint a perfect watercolor to go with it.

April 20, 2022 at 9:54 PM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

I want to roll around in this one until I smell of a boxed gardenia.

April 21, 2022 at 6:47 AM  
Blogger 37paddington said...

I read this last night on my phone and lay there with my mouth hanging open, the visual scampering through my brain. Stunning.

April 21, 2022 at 1:28 PM  

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