Monday, April 5, 2021

poem 59

this day i fell into awareness knowing holding realizing
a year of biscuit baking already slipped past
and only as i whisked almond and hazelnut and barley flours
with more cinnamon and nutmeg and raisins than seems decent
the quick flipping fork clicking on the metal bowl ringing anniversary 
closing the music studio the first batch of biscuits and disbelief
the first deaths already numbers behind the eyes dying on screen
boring jagged memory holes in my heart in millions of hearts 
this day honey bees return to tiny purple maple flowers 
and hummers to the red and white salvia 
and peas stretch a row of promises in green pods
like our broken hearts our voices made silent our dashed dreams
our loses and brokenness hope coalesces in breathdaring whispers

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