A Poem in Poetry Magazine & Elsewhere, 2012
The sun on the waves, in my
garden. The autumn and the spring
sometimes summer. Winter,
nature contains birds and flowers.
My grandmother’s photograph, lusterless
between pages in an old
eBook in my attic, sienna, reminds me
future. I use a sesquipedalian, look it up.
I grow old, I grow old,
I should shop for shorter trousers.
It’s time to rhyme. The line breaks
in the mid-
dle. So much white space. Vagina.
And I did not.