with hues of red and blue

Let this be a day
Let this book turn inward on wheelbarrows
Whose spokes set sail across the sound
Whose sound grows absent as waves
Let this sound restore the sex in want
And sail across the sound
By the time this reaches you
You will have grown to grieve me
Let the memory of my sound
And the brightness of wheelbarrows
Spell loneliness
A tempest of flowers folds onto fields of delay
And the absence of wanting sets sail
And the dresser stands in abeyance


Elise Brand