opening in bloom

the opposite of scarcity i write
to accompany the photo of
the first of the peonies and the
last of the irises
opening in bloom together
plucking collards to a new thinness of
one t0 three inches apart
while cycling through most
of the songs i know by heart
which means it’s a tori amos/oscar isaac/
joana newsome/community song circle mashup
how it hits me as i
deep green plastic watering can into
rain catchment barrels
(the whoose of water moving in,
air zooming out)
that i/we are really doing this
(sometimes called non-monogamy)

and that i never thought
doing this could be
so grounded and
taking long deep pulls
of spearmint water
(the lightness, the hintyness of mint)
from my banged up metal water bottle
under the afternoon sun
trish and i pedaling/rolling
up/down the gravel hills
side by side dodging potholes and moving through the
cool patches of shade into
bright swaths of sun laid out before us
the ripples of purple
in bloom along the dancing rabbit row of mailboxes
how alline says i must go smell them,
that it’s like grape kool-aid and
sure enough
sweet and fake-grape like (with a little extra floral)
it is
which means i can’t resist plucking one
to take with me
but not before i hold it under
trish’s and wily’s noses
the sweet leaving of several
plastic pots of sedums
at my door a la cynthia and tyler
mom and dad on the other end of the phone
how i keep the lights off
so i can watch/follow
the arc of the almost-full moon
as the patch of light moves over me


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