(no subject)

[disgruntledmuse]

All the city's marigolds
will unfold at once. They will be slack
faced and unsurprised. But, for a few seconds, the city
will be filled with a single sound:

petals parting --a sound which could be mistaken
for the sudden uncrumpling of a paper ball,
the note you left breathing in the wastebasket,
a sheet of paper suddenly remembering its form.

On a day such as this the sidewalks
will stand still and I will
be late to meet you.