(no subject)
how the lilacs smelled last june when you weren't here.
like violins
an instrument i never played because i
never pulled them from the ground
(no one to give them to.
i would never give you flowers.)
like quiet
when the hum of the freeway was strangely muffled by the wind
i stood in the field and
hummed along to violins
(the radio was tinny from my open car door.
you would say the treble is off
i trembled
you knew more about music than me.)
like soap
after i scrubbed the parts of you
out of my fragile skin
rubbed raw and hurt from grass
and the cotton dress against my
wobbling limbs
(i was a baby horse
newly
and alone in quiet.)
lilacs in the field by the freeway
smelled like you
in june
(but you were gone.)