| Sunday, December 02, 2007 |
| Paring |
A balcony, an awning. I think
the awning was blue and white.
I think the balcony was bars and terracotta.
A tide of shoots and babied
blossoms soaked the grate,
spilled off the brim, and waved.
Where you were born,
the grass and gilded hay are wed,
chicken footprints thread the orchards,
shooting poplars punch the sky,
but this is where you chose to live.
When you left, your children
locked the door; they cut off the electric
like a butchered bud;
They made arrangements.
Where is your linen tablecloth,
your little tins of pins and buttons?
Who waters your houseplants?
I dream a juice box in the fridge,
spared in the tepid dark. |
posted by rebeccacalvetti @ 8:28 PM   |
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| About Me |
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Name: rebeccacalvetti
Home: Cleveland, Ohio, United States
About Me: I got brunette hair which goes dirty blonde under the sun. I have green eyes and am not particularly short or tall. People who have seen me in a two-piece or less say I have fine decolletage.
See my complete profile
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