the shape , and the duration.
An evening, left to stretch
past tenderness, an August grip
summer soil, tumblers. Kimberly and Alex, in
our socially-distant backyard. As she wrote: deep
as a ruffled pool.
in, behind suburban brick, this metreage that occupies
such amplitude. Christine gardens,
meritocracy of garlic, calendula, goldenrod, lavender
and lemongrass; a disposition of tomatoes.
half-forgotten horseradish, leftover from last year, nearly
enough to separate
the skin of the earth like a tumor.
the children’s corner garden, a pumpkin
appears, unexpectedly. What
they did not plant.
Lukin Linklater: A person enters and reads.