Road dust gathers into a heavy skirt
around the old oak on a humid night
under the sorbet sky melting into moon
Nothing worse than sorbet splattered
on a hot summer sidewalk
That thick sticky dust kicked up by passing cars
now dressing my yard in tired memories held down
by my tears, so how can I rise from this malaise?
My dust-covered memories aren’t washed
clean by dirty rain. I might as well admit it’s dementia.
Dementia. Or simply a dream about my heart dueling my
mind. The sorbet sunlight, melting on hot asphalt.
Oak trees trimmed in Sunday’s finest: road dust.
Forget the sorbet. I want Death by Chocolate cheesecake.
Even if I have to eat it off a dusty floor.
a collaboration with Barbara Leonhard, published on Substack:
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