September 22nd
My address is water,
the curve of the lake
spilling like dark silk.
My address is water,
where the rain has gone
day lilies, devil’s paintbrush,
foxglove, its bell-shaped
damp tongue.
My address is water,
my mother, my sisters,
the cool well
around which
all of us
pool in gratitude.
My address is water,
the curve of the lake
spilling like dark silk.
My address is water,
where the rain has gone
day lilies, devil’s paintbrush,
foxglove, its bell-shaped
damp tongue.
My address is water,
my mother, my sisters,
the cool well
around which
all of us
pool in gratitude.