You seed yourself like grasses in a field but also between the ochre stones of an ancient street. You bring on darkness and sunrise.
I notice a small nest on the casing around our porch light, protected under the eaves from rain. My four-year-old niece and I see
I turned into a bird-footed woman, a naked night orphan. Did I tell you? I tear a green bloom from the poisonous stinking hellebore.
although I do have two with peony in the title. They’re the only flower I use, except gardenias. And dahlias. A stand of