Monday, December 20, 2010

Calling home

She leaves us on the porch
empty lapis sky, underneath
smell of folded flowers drying,
tastes soft pink, raspberry, sorbet,
Its cold, cold wind, the winter
nudging fall, forgetting summer,
loving spring, from the window
call her, across the step,
cloudless, unkept
the gate rests on its hinges, rusts

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