I scribble lines in my mind
about the feline invading
my backyard. How the white and turd
brown thing leaves poop in my
veggie garden, how its paws cover up
my baby chard sprouts. How it possesses
gall to stare past glass and taunt me and my
poodle—too small to give chase, obstructed.
But still, near that caramel cat, pink jewels
crowd close as glad congregants. Exponential blooms
crown emerald stalks, each pink flower tiny
as a baby’s nail. And every summer more hyacinths
lure me in and belt out choruses,
of beauties now and coming.
Carol Park’s homes range from suburbs to wilderness. Six years in Tokyo and Kobe, Japan greatly altered this California girl. Hiking, gardening, mentoring, and reading are her joys. Work is split between teaching ESL, literary endeavors, community, and the hearth. A multitude of friends from various countries nurture her. Her MFA comes from Seattle Pacific University. Her poetry has been published in SLANT, Minerva Rising, The Haight Ashbury Journal, Black Fox Literary, MiGoZine, and Monterey Review. The books Viral Verse: Poetry of the Pandemic include her poems, as will the forthcoming collection, New Contexts: 2. Read more at CarolPark.us and sign up for a monthly story letter.
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