Читать книгу Collage of Seoul - Jae Newman - Страница 15

Cottonwood in static suspension—

it covers the neighbor’s lawn.

Mid-May, we talk of moving

again. She says we should stay

and I always want to go

somewhere new

and redefine ourselves perpetually

as newlyweds, as

the couple who can not

see its shadow.

Outside the window, floating in the air

the whispers of dead dandelions

mowed down

reminds me of another time,

another spring

before I had allergies

when staring at strange snow falling up

might have touched the chord,

an echo on my spine.