let me tell you a story
about a girl
who ties brilliant little bows
onto boxes of poetry,
who puts prose in an envelope
and seals it with a kiss.
her walk is steady,
not at all deterred by the mind inside her skull:
a garden
constantly blooming
with white lilacs
and occasional weeds
(because you cannot always control the plants you grow),
but she waters them all the same.
and if you've ever stood in the eye of a hurricane,
or the vortex of a tornado,
then you know what it's like to see her tear herself apart
even if everyone else is screaming at her
to keep herself together.
but if you've ever seen a sunshower,
then you know what it's like to see her smile
and laugh
and pick up the pieces
with unyielding grace.
and god,
i live for those sunshowers.
(a.m.)
for h.l.