on a line from Amy Leach’s “Things That Are” I have never made a flower, never have I pressed myself through dirt, me as
The grass has added tent to its vocabulary The air: shuttlecock And the lowest limbs of the crabapple: boy Published in Cider Press
Once a neighbor boy unzipped his pants at me in the woods. We were twelve or eight or who knows how old, but his
1 In the parking lot his skin hums cherry blossom & hers honeysuckle returned wild summer takes & takes