Poetry

The sky is oiled orange
gleaming along the metal
and matte of cement steps

A sudden car trip in the dark.
Your blue hands
curled in the coffin.

Stealthy in bare feet
three bandits come.
Prize swivels high between
striped green leaves.

Mother portions them out
one-eighth of a cup
in six mounds, cupped

A poem about a little girl sitting in a whicker chair, watching a parade go by from her spot in the bay window.

A poem about a childhood adventure in imagination

The hose is on
running clear into black
of garden earth.