Scrape and Bell (audio only)
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Can she be planted where the corner of the garden’s rocks are down?
I would like bleeding heart or fuchsia to redden the banks
In their brief seasons. Rain, rain, Irish rain.
Diamonds on the stamens when the sun goes blind.
And sweet pea, pale pink, pale blue, perfume.
Please, if you can, make sure there is an ash tree, young and tight and green.
I almost met you
On a Saturday
The wind blew easterly.
There was a jar of mums
On a table near the window.
Their yellows were calling
To each other.
Were put back
In the pencil drawer
Before I noticed your shadow.
Loneliness is not an accident or a choice.
It’s an uninvited and uncreated companion.
It slips in beside you when you are not aware that a
choice you are making will have consequences.
It does you no good even though it’s like one of the
elements in the world that you cannot exist without.
It takes your hand and walks with you. It lies down
with you. It sits beside you. It’s as dark as a shadow
but it has substance that is familiar.
It swims with you and swings around on stools.
It boards the ferry and leans on the motel desk.