this is one twist

that’s one purpose the ribbing serves
laird says talking about the rebar
and how it helps hold the wire we
wrap and tie around it to connect
piece to piece
we put on our galoshes and gloves
for the concrete pour
(an almost-final step
in the multi-season project
of cister-building)
hoes and shovels in hand
to tamp out the air bubbles
the scrape of the gravelly cement
as it slides down the chute
the shared movement motion of
all our arms (taming or scree-ing)
the sun growing warmer but not too hot
juicing a lemon
like soula taught me
(with a fork)
into a glass of water
seeds fall to the bottom
quenching is achieved
a bloated dead frog/toad
on the edge of the tomato beds
one or two flies zipping around
(dead for a while now)
and a live plump toad
greens and blacks and browns and grays
hopping around in the old potato beds
that i sprinkle with
cover crop seed
gathered in handfuls with one hand
from the 3 gallon bucket i hold with the other
like a salon trish says
regarding a dinner discussion night
colors and sheen
of satiny elastic
lined up in a row
(maroon, light pink, bright orange, yellow orange,
light blue, hot red etc)
the hum/murmur
of a well-oiled sewing machine
(grandma wempe’s, on loan from mica)
named the dressmaker
blue and silver
thread zig-zagging elastic to fabric
don’t worry, i don’t think we stunted his growth
i say to mica regarding ashby the kitten
who is certainly getting bigger
but very very slowly
the glance (mischevious)
joseph and i share
while i hand off the quart jar
full of chocolate chips
in the kitchen after dinner
contrary to a previous self
i choose all the work to be done indoors
after dinner rather than
chasing a sunset
(that pinkgrey cloud illumination!)
down the gravel road
this is one twist
to the looming leaving


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