Landscape with Yarn & Harmonicas
by Lori Lamothe
All day emotion
kept skipping on heat—
my red garden
unruly as this
bonfire horizon,
sparks of images
disappearing in darkness.
All day I alphabetized
shades of rose, transcribed
clouds onto plain white paper.
Now I’m here
on August’s back step,
tugging at a loose
thread on love’s sleeve—
unraveling the rational
till nothing’s left but
a tangle of smashed vase kisses
and electric sky sex.
At the end of excess
the trees line up in twin rows.
Tomorrow they'll copy out
the letters for wind,
practice sorting
stained glass light
into bright plastic bins.
