I call
for direction.
don’t lose me here;
not now.
a cold discarded penny
on wet pavement.
The phone smells
like other people’s voices.
Snow’s falling
across a silver, steel span
called the
but I’ve no destination
on an empty night.
If I could,
I would make time crawl
to me on its hands and knees
and you would love me again.
Lindsay Riggs Brown
Man-Made Roses
Slice your
thumbnail through
a tender green
tightly-closed
rosebud,
stripping back
to petiole
revealing
fleshy
pale, pink, petals.
Pull apart
pastel pleats
with pollinated fingers
pushing and prodding into place….
then…
stand back,
admire your masterpiece,
and say,
“there now,
that almost
resembles a rose.”
Fall-
-ing
Aesculus
Hippocastanum
like
little,
shiny,
brown-helmeted
kamikazi
pilots
G
E
R
O
N
I
M
O
Buckeyes
falling
on
the
hood
of
my
car
make
me
laugh
out
loud
when
I’m
alone.
Lindsay Riggs Brown
I changed everything;
the width
and color of my walls.
remodeled;
re-papered,
re-plastered,
re-planed,
repainted,
repented…
I changed everything;
the walls
and color of my width.
Lindsay Riggs Brown
Cerulean sky from
an Italian painting
beams on my
Chestnut tree;
a gold flash
after
angry
rain.
Too warm; too cold
Something
always aches.
Too empty; too full
Something
always breaks.
Lindsay Riggs Brown
