Archive | 12:22 am


4 Oct

“Have some faith,” he offers, extending a marigold basket,

Is it round and white and spongy? I ask

“And sticky and drips from trees.”

Is it brittle and lined and aged? I ask

“And soaked in delta waters.”

Is it gnarled and craven and smiling? I ask

“And gurgles on its deathbed.”

Is it close and warm and vicious? I ask

“And lives in your childhood dreams.”