You will plant fennel
& dill in sleeves
of concrete & soil;
onions & garlic
in wormy pockets
packed with straw.
When cherry blossoms lather
the branches
& rime darkens into dew,
let your winter head
melt into the river.
What canters into darkness
is not a vanishing
but an amending. Catch
the handle.
Sink the knife
into the rough rind.
When the rain stops,
you realize you’ll never
be whole. After the stand-up
laughter, after
Hallelujah whiplash
& hatchet-ragged edges,
you remember a photo
can’t be made
without an aperture
to sneak in the light.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 6.
Elizabeth Vignali is the author of the poetry collection House of the Silverfish (Unsolicited Press 2021) and three chapbooks, the most recent of which is Endangered [Animal] (Floating Bridge Press 2019). Her work has appeared in Willow Springs, Cincinnati Review, Poetry Northwest, Mid-American Review, Tinderbox, The Literary Review, and others. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, where she produces the Bellingham Kitchen Session reading series and serves as poetry editor of Sweet Tree Review.
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