tea garden *2
rose petals at eleven, the around o'clock dancing in her head, like opium only intoxicating ghosts not really there, breathless fallen scratched music, she rests her hand across the barbs of recollecting open books medicine like clouds or dust falling giddy in skirts and head-dresses, it has come to this, wrists frayed, edges of happier gardens recording the family gone, all the way they went, around and around, as if they could uninvited and unexpectedly return to the old lawn with the drunkard paths to find lupins taller and brighter, lips wide, ready, time for tea.silver-sun daydreamers, spread across the lawn, legs apart, lega akimbo, put that young man down girl, free to feel, book open, spine creaks and words crawling across the page toward the chipped tea cup, little dribbles of herb tea across the page, little flies of words, adding to together sentences make themselves mothy, furred, clinking inside the jars of dried stuffs, the biggest has a lot to say for herself dancing in the evening light, around and around and around, making a scene, taking the butter knife and slicing a piece of lawn to give to guests, uttering the ghost cloud song of happier gardens.
posted by Cathy @ 2:32 AM
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