Today I recognize
the black buds – like a calf’s
wet hooves – of the Ash
Trees of the World calls Fraxinus
excelsior, the chartreuse
tubular flowers of Salix fragilis,
which filled with nectar when
we still shook hands, shoved
onto crowded, heated trains,
rushed for the bright orange seat
that seemed empty, contained
a clear puddle. In Prospect Park
a toddler cups his palms, tells
his father caterpillar!
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Hilary Sideris has recently published poems in The American Journal of Poetry, Bellevue Literary Review, Free State Review, Gravel, The Lake, Main Street Rag, Rhino, Room, Salamander, and Southern Poetry Review. Her latest book, Animals in English, poems after Temple Grandin, is just out from Dos Madres Press.
Latest posts by Hilary Sideris (see all)
- Catkin - 13th June 2021
- My Mother’s Cell - 25th October 2020
I love the elision of time.