Tag Archives: poetry

I am impatient in love just like that first yellow crocus knows it is foolish to open early but still pushes through the thin crust of snow expanding eagerly inside March air clean & treacherous as ice

I collect old loves the way my grandmother collected china patterns I know, intimately, the colors and textures, the graceful turns of gilt edgings I want to create/with you some live thing memories are for old women to display carefully … Continue reading →

A flowershop rosebud opened too soon your petals crumble to ash in my palm traces of gray I carelessly brush from my fingertips

She fits you easy as torn jeans, moves to your motion, never restricts. She is cut to your pattern, unlike me, the thrift-shop Friday-night shirt you buy on impulse. Too colorful for every day, uncomfortable if worn too long.