Untitled Poem

It’s lavender

that’s creeping up her legs

A twig here

Leaves there

She watches as he shreds

some not-quite-opened

lavender buds

off a stem

and sprinkles them into

wax drippings

from a candle burning

And then it’s lavender

all over the room.

 

from breathing for breadth 

(TSAR: 2005, p. 35) 

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