Poem Category: All

picnic Sun
in much too much skin
we red and tighten

just street lights
the tram changes
the types it carries

bird parts on the lawn
Laurel’s long heart’s
scream

no ripples mix here
the swans and I cross
our share of the lake

sail boat regatta
waiting at the end
of the race a calm

the window closed
there is a half moon
on the yard’s new leaves