I WANT TO TELL YOU

 

how rice swells after rain and weddings melt away
the honey, how moon grows in the belly

of maples. I want to remember
marigold, how we covered our eyes

to keep our souls from wandering. Wintering
we say that hibernation’s a half moon away.

And how did we come to this, tainted,
mourning? Your ear cocked for news

of the moon, my sprung lip primed
to gun down your madcap dreams.

 

 

Ronda Broatch is the author of Lake of Fallen Constellations (MoonPath Press, 2015), Shedding Our Skins (Finishing Line Press, 2008), and Some Other Eden (Finishing Line Press, 2005). Her journal publications include Atlanta Review, Prairie Schooner, Fourteen Hills, Mid-American Review.

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