from the rim of sadness

tiny and the tantrums
baigz names the jazz band
comprised of new orleans rats, mice, possums, raccoons, etc.
as emory, baigz and i
take turns, sentence by sentence,
building a story in south garden
while baigz thins beets, trish harvests salad mix and i
move tufts of hay with a pitchfork to mulch
the brassica beds
_______
cole says she has something shimmery to show me
and busts out her bronzy cowboyish boots
from her backpack and does a little
light bootdance on the front porch in them
_______
blue ice pack sweating
under the pain/ache/swell of
the ball of my right foot – site of re-injury and
re-injury ever since i got cleated
six or so months ago
_______
how the humidity
(and sometimes heat, which is nothing now
since it’s only may)
is enough to make one want
to shave their hair off
_______
stork-like, the shape of a heron
(its feet out behind it and its bill long)
floating/flapping across the granyness/brightness
of an afternoon sky as i pause
to pitchfork-lean
and watch til it disappears
into the creek-following tree line
_______
getting buff cynthia says about me
in the short sleeves alongside the fresh haircut
_______
we’ll always be sisters i say
from the rim of sadness,
leaning in
_______

the rattly cough of a black cat-kitten
outside my window as the cool rains
come down

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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