blossom branch breaks free from her
trunk, playing tricks on heads—
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Bulbs. Midnight rainbow bulbs’ solace is
my quasi-collapse through a plush ottoman.
Later, chilly sandhya holidaze requests
a reckoning, and I’m good at judging plans;
staring, breathing, counting on shopping
lists for smiles. It’s all for little smiles.
Wee Mia, she only digs the real bliss.
And why shouldn’t she? Hugs and wiles
come with smiles. How could they miss
or rot? Daddy breathes her in and his
lungs embrace her. I think we really want
our children to smell. What is this:
Love? Just a baby’s scent in the morning
clearing the cobwebs for blasts of glory.
So much time wasted
But in a flash
To forge ahead
And forgive the past
As much as it taught
With our souls we bought
More time to use
Try not to abuse
The power you’ve earned
From all of which you’ve learned
by Traci Guberman
Purple sunrise from
a spiced balcony. Currents warm
fresh bitterns. Thieves fly.
High-fives on the steps
of a gold dome.
among citizens (and denizens).
Among us, Love—and tonight
a toast. Drink
up, get out, in
Tethers of masses
unmade by velocities.
No limits but what’s seen.