In Touch With A Smoothing Iron

Yellow with water stains,
wine, carpet-beetle droppings,
sweat in, cried in, just plain tired—
I have taken an old dress,
washed it, and wet
spread it on the grass.

Like the nervous bird
inside my chest
that I must breathe
to life each morning,
it comes back
moist smelling.

Yellow jacket on snowberry,
how happy we are
this morning, he rubs his feet
against the pink blossom,
flies upside down
at the same time.

by Sandra Alcosser

Other poems of SANDRA ALCOSSER (4)

Comments (1)

A great and well-woven piece. Everyone will rate it 10/10!