Saturday, June 20, 2015

Thirst

Thirst

Everyone knows that berries go to seed.
How did this one become a pendant against my heart?

We know that limestone, under pressure and heat,
becomes marble to line my bath.
Instead this cracked and crumbling grout?

And what about the plum?
Not a tree, not a tart, but a windshield splat.

I choose this water--not fresh
falling snow, not steam that clouds
the mirror--and swallow minty toothpaste.

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