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Archive

I died without the beautiful unfolding

I died without the beautiful unfolding accorded to calla lilies. Had I those days between shoot & droop, what wonders—what works to perform.

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I waited and you did come back

I waited and you did come back, but not just you. There was God and an Italian orphaned of good looks & humor. We all had tea. I wept later.

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Guerrilla, my love

Guerrilla, my love, save some passion for me. There’ll be mangoes, freshly cut azaleas & siestas. But your callouses must be ready to soften.

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Calabash meets muslin

Calabash meets muslin & the water of the first cools the other…for a time. Muslin wants soaking, turns calabash upside: hollow & dry.

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Does our village love us?

Does our village love us? Not when I kiss you. Pioneering these affections, we forget how fragile our bones are. The only asylum, us away.

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