170 – Laurel Hedge

Laurel Hedge

They ruined the mystery
in an afternoon. $300
lopped off the Hand of Fate.
$300 and two dudes
with a hedge trimmer
and a pickup.

The wind makes no waves.

So it’s a squirrel who runs
limb to limb. I learn
blue jay’s flutter-hop
from my back deck.
Our tabby slinks off
hidden in plain sight.

What gods we’ve exorcised.

The neighbors grow bodies
to hold their voices, alive
through the naked branches.
Wreathed in grill smoke
full of light
they beckon to us.

What will come if we pass to them?
What awaits us there?

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *