V  P  R

Contemporary Poetry and Poetics




Time as a child I was often outside,
you in some known part of the yard,
watering the lawn.  Just this morning

I thought of the daisies along the driveway,
rows of roses dripping petals.
So little to mow any more,

considering the yew, the blueberries
and plentiful pears. Cherry
tomatoes and flowering quince leaving

only a dappled patch of green in the back,
a path between espaliered Gravenstein
and neighbor's bees.  How once you gave me

an edge of this Eden to create
river with the hose when water was ample,
before you turned the tap

and what remained was dirt, and in it
I discovered all the stones in the world
wouldn't keep my stream

soaking into loam, my dream
the color of you coming back, the words
for water caught in my throat.



© by Ronda Broatch


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