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.

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