emilie-deanWhisper

American

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To a ripe tomatoOh, delicious siren of the produce aisle, / your alias, “Vegetable,” above. / Come, let me pick you from the bunch.

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2.3k

to a mosquito, smashed with a pack of flour tortillaswhen i saw you hovering there / some little / brown thing

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to a lover, ten years prior to our meetingI might have seen you / scouring the concrete ashtrays / for a half-smoked cigarette

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to the cat in my neighbor's windowlicking a paw on / the sill, grey-white shadow / of fur and sun beam

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864

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