Under the Weight of Metaphor

Hanging laundry while discussing the merits of tricycles. In the mud below wizened crab apples, a bear track. Oh how I love sleepovers.

There is a geometry to maybe. We who study the architecture of swing sets. While it rained I pulled out last year's tomato stakes to assess their viability.

A wind bearing rain, a dog with a deer haunch dangling from its jaws. Board games scattered over the living room floor, an uncharacteristic mess. Sun so bright the road out appears white.

Coconuts, beach balls, salt smell of the sea! But what I really love is subtlety and nuance. Up all night writing notes toward a diet.

Ripe for a plunge, are we? She said later that a recollection of favorite kisses was imminent. My heart broke under the weight of metaphor.

Perhaps an essay exploring the reliability of cameras. Or a bird in the pines, invisible despite its soft insistent call. Adjectives, my undoing.

Forbidden you, forbidden us. At night a new dream, stark as an open fire.