Parity №12: Eroding Mountains
A pile of rotten maple leaves
looks like a granite mountain
after the fluttering confusion
of confetti-cut whirling snow
but do you remember when your
lemon-scented hair was plastered
across the icy sleeve of my coat
like the leaves around my porch?
Like this? You can read my poem, “An Unfinished Axe,” at the link below.