Poetry
Poetry
Poetry
is the detritus bagged
& stacked out in the alley
is the compost tucked
deep in backyard bins
are the clothes all clean
& folded & stored
is the walk in my bones
the clay mask off my skin
was the book by the bed
consumed all the whole day
is the work on my table
my joy beyond wealth
is a feast all prepped
from the earth & the sea
these are sunday songs
this is loving myself