Hydrangea Bloom, Rhapsody,
blood streaming from my mouth & not my favorite
ending to a dream. The snake appearing from a hay bale
kept too long in the garage, so I grab the garden hoe & kill it,
separating its head from its rest. Then the head grows
to the size of a crocodile head. Then grows bigger than
even that. This story told over & over at family gatherings
in the future. Second-hand timber rattler boots worn for effect.
All the little nieces & nephews feigning terror. They know
it’s all bullshit, but still scream, laugh, ask leading questions,
participate in further stretching of the truth. Another lesson
a little less a lesson & more an alarm clock set to the PM
when it shoulda been the AM. The inevitability of the sand
in the bag, in your teeth when eating potato chips at the beach.
Grit in my shoes as sockless I slide them on the next morning
to walk the dog before the convention of robins begins another
day’s assault on the neighbor’s choke-cherry. My love & I still
on a gifted quilt, sun slipping down behind us – shadows.