“Learn to love silence and the taste of water.” ~ Dave Bonta
There is only a column of stones
where the fireplace used to be.
What was the thunk in the night of a green body
falling from the tree? Jackfruit, or avocado?
The heady smell from the garden is strongest
at noon: red-streaked tongues of ginger lilies.
If you take a candle and look in the mirror at midnight,
the gaunt face of your future bridegroom will appear.
No one around: waking from groggy sleep after giving birth,
finding the bathroom; jellied spiral of blood on the floor.
One memory of moonlight: my mother patiently filled spaces
between large, flat stones on the walk with smaller pebbles.
The furl of a fish fin in pond water: scallop
of vanishing rouge, tip of a mossy hieroglyph.
Dry bread, still sweet, softens in a cup of amber-
colored tea. This you can drink, and eat.
In response to How to lose.