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Monday, June 26, 2017

10 Ways of Looking at a Dogwood in Bloom


I
Deliverer of envelopes
without their letters, or letters sent
backwards. Unlicked, unstamped
unaddressed, unfolded, unwritten.

II
Shards of porcelain and the shadow
of the nurse’s cat as it escapes
across the green shag.

III
Refurbished brooch
an heirloom bezel boiling over
with new cabochons. Soon
to be stripped again.

IV
A reason.

V
A catch-colt loosed, casting
its dark limbs like lots
in new snow drifts. Hoof-
scythed skyward, flakes fall
a second time, on its back
like a burial.

VI.
A reason
but not
a pardon.

VII
A garden of moss-stained
gravestones, over which
hover ghosts of gone-by
butterflies. A catbird
leaves a nest
in lieu of flowers.

VIII
A collection of all words
that go at the end of letters:
sincerely, love, all the best
p.s., yours.

IX
A gift delivered like a pardon.
A pardon delivered like a child
stillborn. Not awful
unto itself.

X
All the best, yours.
All the worst,
yours.

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