From Otoliths
STREET, VASE, TIDE
The vase with peonies was struggling on the edge of the table
eyed by a cat and surrounded by words percolating in hands
and in the exhausted mind of the lady collapsed on the couch.
Burgundy with swirls, cotton— the feel of the space not captured where
again— she heard her sharecropper mum— stay strong, hold on,
for the streets are not friendly and the flowers fade.
The hideous statue opposite hers is now falling— dust on too many ashes.
Her vision lands and falls, bobbing on light waves alone
as the toppled colonizer bobs on waves of protests
and voices sprayed on country walls as time.
As the flowers resign, those 20 shots ricochet in her
ear memory like sinuous tides stretched inland.
© William Allegrezza-Serena Piccoli 2020
The vase with peonies was struggling on the edge of the table
eyed by a cat and surrounded by words percolating in hands
and in the exhausted mind of the lady collapsed on the couch.
Burgundy with swirls, cotton— the feel of the space not captured where
again— she heard her sharecropper mum— stay strong, hold on,
for the streets are not friendly and the flowers fade.
The hideous statue opposite hers is now falling— dust on too many ashes.
Her vision lands and falls, bobbing on light waves alone
as the toppled colonizer bobs on waves of protests
and voices sprayed on country walls as time.
As the flowers resign, those 20 shots ricochet in her
ear memory like sinuous tides stretched inland.
© William Allegrezza-Serena Piccoli 2020
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