a bloom

practice reading
in a living room
filled with
natacha’s french
manuel’s spanish
and my english
unraveling the tale of
and the mountains that hold her
but don’t have arms to hug


what unfolds at a table
over an impromptu lunch
of salad and home-made carrot ginger dressing
is served
along with  splashes of red wine
(mystery age revealed: 47
and talk of chinese zodiac
and the major shifts that occur
every twelve years)


blanket of snow still laid out
beyond the north-facing door
of natacha’s casita
while all the rest
spent the day melting


what do you mean
when you say
you felt low?


a bloom of plastic bags
in a garbage bin that reads
no plastic bags

sunset softest clouds
except for those along the mountain ridge
glowing molten fuchsia

final installment
in the seemingly endless
haircut series i think i
got it right this time


how fast and slow
the same week can pass
time meted out
in the space between


2 Replies to “a bloom”

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