–A poem by Susan Austin


Don’t paint summer the color of blue flax

then the color of goldeneye, paint

two broad black strokes a river

dammed at the end of the porch,

a rhomboid tilted by the tenacious lure

of dandelions, and if there must be

a figure, paint the figure

a triangle woman with childish arms, her hair

a chaos of wildflowers, the whole of summer

falling between her hands.

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