A quiet day here, with little to report. I sewed a button on a shirt today (if you know me, you realize what a huge feat this is). Here's a poem and a photo from my camera for your Labor Day.


Surprise mortar attacks have left

makeshift trenches between tents

every day this week, and the Forward

Command Center burst into flame

this morning at 0200,

a shade of red you can’t describe.

In the past three days I have washed

every scrap of fabric in the house,

bleached the kitchen, cleaned the windows,

fixed the screen door, made three batches

of strawberry jam with rum, hammered

butter into croissant dough, jogged ten miles

and finished two Agatha Christie novels.

You sounded as if everything would be fine

until I told you about the yellow irises

I bought last minute at the store tonight,

twelve of them at their peak, reflecting gold

over the grey-flecked linoleum,

over their cellophane funnel

dotted with red markdown stickers

that read in handwritten letters take me!



dot said…
Sneaky tear-jerker.

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