June 17

comments 4

Everything is bolting
in the heat, sending up

last gasps, small
anxious leaves,

scattered and flowering,
even the greens

in the shadiest bed
giving in to reflex–

panic, unbecoming,
I sit in late morning’s

near silence– a button
strikes in the washing

machine, the dog
is gnashing her fur

with her teeth, a jet
passes low–


it’s motion that gives
us all away–

Unmoved, I eat
a mealy peach.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s