HE THINKS OF DIFFERENT LANDSCAPES
I’d love to be able
to say rhododendron,
my lips pursed like petals,
my breath a hum of color,
but I have to say sagebrush,
rabbit brush, brush-brush,
dry whispers in the wind
like the buzz of grasshoppers.
Trillium, she once said,
her lips full of murmur.
I coughed back cactus,
stuck in my rough gulch.
What garden did she come from?
To what garden did she return?
__________________________
WHAT IT’S LIKE TO READ AN AD ON MARCH 18
(Natural Awakenings, March)
“Those seeking to find
their soul’s purpose
need look no further than
the Soul-Mapping Class
behind held on March 15.”
deuce coupe 