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L B May 2019
No one so shy
as moonlight on waterlilies
of a blue-black night



         Personne si timide
         au clair de lune sur les nénuphars
         Ce soir, bleu-noir
Written first in English as a poetry assignment to be translated to another language.  I realized  immediately that my translation was far more beautiful.  It usually works the other way around.
  May 2019 L B
Bogdan Dragos
Girls with glasses are cute
but that's only what I think
and she doesn't agree
so she's wearing contact lens
and she's losing them more
often than not
and the house becomes
a minefield
and we have the thread
lightly

it's just a small apartment
it shouldn't be that hard
to find them or the
one that got lost

when only one got lost
she would use the other
and cover her other
eye and look around
and point things and tell
me to turn them over so
she could take a better look

and I would sometimes
say "I told you"
but I no longer do it

I look under the cover
and the pillows
and the sheets
and the carpet
in shoes, under them
pockets, corners, folds
sink, toilet, tub

one day
she covers her free eye
and uses the other one
to look at her phone

"Really now?" I say
on my knees, searching
in shoes

she shows me her phone
and what I see is a bottle of
perfume

"Been wanting to get this
for a while now," she says.
"After this I'm seriously gonna."

I take a better look at the thing
and by gods
no
it's not a perfume bottle
not in that sense anyway

its description says
that you spray the things
you lose often with it
and your pet dog, being addicted
to the smell, will find them
for you

I drop the shoe down at my feet
and sit back and laugh
for about a full minute

When I'm done she's out
of the room

And I shout after her
"I don't believe in buying dogs,
I told you."

I don't believe in buying dogs
You either adopt them
or don't have them

but please, whatever you do,
don't ever spray stuff on the
stuff that comes in contact with
your eyes
okay?
L B May 2019
Memorial day
playing "hide and seek"
among the graves

Geraniums
--lugging water to them
My mother forced--
our childish "signs of the cross"
By her parents' rest
we prayed

She-- still 13 there
rubs her tears away

Stealing flags
off other's memories
to keep them as my own

Once while hiding
a discovery
of rain-worn lamb
on mossy stone
I read--

"...Our darling girl,
1923-1925"
Never any flowers
L B May 2019
The sturdy dandelion
rosette of the grass
Gold of the green
Of spring, the queen
Every part-- good for food
and roots, a coffee
Dandelion, good for food
and pleasure to nose and eye

Dandelion-- a provident of God.
The title is what my mother used to say when she held them below my chin.  The reflected gold on skin meant you were a butter lover.  Always.
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