By Susan Austin

Don’t paint summer the color of blue flax
then the color of goldeneye, paint
two broad black strokes a river
dammed at the end of the porch,
a rhomboid tilted by the tenacious lure
of dandelions, and if there must be
a figure, paint the figure
a triangle woman with childish arms, her hair
a chaos of wildflowers, the whole of summer
falling between her hands.

Categories: Issue 6, Poetry | Leave a comment

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