On house windows
Rosemary spindles. Long fingers adorned, Blossomed and thorned. Combing my arbor. Tending her larder, A suspended casket, A weed woven basket. Old nanny take care. The dew drops delicious. The sun warms you there. It’s rays are nutritious. The streets bring a roar. It’s children in chorus. They hunger and havoc. Their sores wet and porous. Embrace them with poultice. Endure their lost suckling. For children run off And leave your knees buckling. Beneath you a cadre Of daffodils jealous, Catching your tears As they wipe Down the trellis. 3/23/89
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