Magazine
Indian Summer Where I Live
Season of flutes
and bare arms,
the ruckus of bees
at the door,
snarl of fire engines
in this desert.
Not Again
As if I needed
another reminder
of you
in winter,
The Two Times I Loved You the Most in a Car
It was your idea
to park and watch the elephants
swaying among the trees
like royalty
at that make-believe safari
near Laguna.
I didn’t know anything that big
could be so quiet.
Another Woman
My children were born in spring,
Summer’s promise on bow shaped lips
bones not yet knit together
pledge
oceans and seas
straits and channels
with lifetime alliance
cast solid and true.
Marco Mannone
