Linda Papanicolaou

Linda Papanicolaou

pickleweed— the salt marsh harvest mouse about its business
	Valentine’s Day— a little red sports car in the passing lane
hot humid night through the open window nessun dorma
	dune wind— the blackened seedpods of bush lupine
basket full of sun— mother folds the morning’s wash clothespin by clothespin
	leaving class we switch back into English— rainy winter night
heartwood— the old log’s cavity fills with snow
	a haze of moonlight in her fossil eyes— horseshoe crab
the nameless child on a birth certificate— autumn deepens
	rusty park bench— to the aether of the stars my frosted breath

All poems copyright by Linda Papanicolaou. They may not be used for any purpose without explicit permission.