(for Shawna) …..
out of cherries,
so I mumble in a little
persimmons instead, bread
the edges in both silence and song.
the periwinkle chalk,
and we talk about the nature
of pink or blue and brand new
things promised, fresh-breathed breezes.
Coffee’s on, de
-caf, but strong.
We stir it with words and stall,
bid that crazy clock to stop tick
-ling. Her ankle bracelets jangle through Fall.