two glasses at the summerhouse

the lemon windchimes knock against my knees

the blood of a citrus singing through my teeth

today i step through a desert of joy rainy sundays

bring daughters water-heavy and gray gowns

stained in juice a tiger mouth of tulips

the seeds of mechanical laughter dripping down their chins

noon is fog-lit and distant silver-lined florals strayed up high

a golden-hour of rushlight and radio when the ocean becomes the sky

i think i hear the children rolling in the grass i never know

their names etched in my mind violet smudges bent toward a horizon

their music took away my soul left me too loud and clear

when the light pours out my eyes i drip tears on the roof now hear

the sunlight filtering between branches i cannot feel

the way warmth trickles between thighs and sighs

a little hollow in the chest of a yellowthroat

golden rind plumes rumbling with the peal of bells