February 23

comments 4

At first the night, and then
the reckoning, that special brand

of dread, like a sleeping
limb, still there, present,

painfully so


something blooming just outside
the yard not jasmine not lilac not

honeysuckle not any flower I know
or have managed yet to find–


if a lesson, like a scent,




[+A million apologies for being derelict in wordpress activity of late]


  1. It’s nice to be reading one of your poems again. I haven’t written or read on a long time, so it’s like coming back to a favorite watering hole.😊


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