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THAT TIME
Our Poem of the Week is That Time by Martha Collins
Sheer
The trees were filled with tiny worms – caterpillars, I guess – that hung
down on invisible threads.
How’d it go? she asked her friend, who was drawing a blue line on her lid.
The ground colors were something else: goldenrod, asters, Queen Anne’s
lace, fields of yellowing beans.
Seeds, of course, maple wings, and yellow dust in the air.
He handed me a red rose, open except for two petals that covered its
sex like hands.
Yellow butterflies, white butterflies, baby snake on the path.
Do you want to? He asked, and I wasn’t sure.
When the child came in from play, it was almost dark.
From the book Sheer (Barnwood Press, 2007).
To purchase Sheer, click here.
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