lone dandelion, charles simmonds park, edmonton, june 2009ii)
midnight now. & the dark
wavers with the fires of blue
moths, thoughts the colour
of lightning. in this heat
i can’t sleep for trying
to remember what he said
it was like:
a whole meadowful of ferns
all pulled up by their roots
at once –
one fell swoop, sage-white
fingerlings hanging breathless,
all aching for water –
& i go warm now, feel the
salty streak of my cheekbone,
the flooded field of my mouth.
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