Post-seizure # 28
cedar sinai, pastilles, violent iron work, flowers blaze grey balconies, green sea clear to the roaming white shells with oozing feet, poplars, junipers a blue haze, along marble stairs fires shudder
walls of memory and death 400 years in the making, small bakery with lavender wafers, coffee & strawberry jam, tangerine swirls in the coffee cup, cream on raspberries, love is the time travelled between hearts
life is measured in moments of sensory waking, forests blaze with future understanding, smokey haze on a hot day, water at the edge of town burns blue, white roads clip cliffsides, horses drowse with peacocks, children float by on lotus leaves, their mothers under lilies sleep, fathers gone on the tongues of battle
genocide is just a word for grief, small brown voles raid forgotten corn stores, into eternity old squash blossoms wilt, where are the next cacti spines meant to go
stumble up from closure on the cusp of understanding, aware again after a long thought out plan of surrender, who goes to bed hungry? We do.
Carol Shillibeer lives on the west coast of Canada. She has poems, photos and bits of art in a variety of journals.
