In the morning, and the little ones look like eyelashes
as they float down. More eyelashes should float. They say
I need to forget you and move on, yes, that is what I’m
going to do, but first I will count the specks of green in the
quartz outside my door, because there are so many, and no
reason not to notice how they’re unique. The sky sheds
blue feathers freely like a carnival hawker calling for
customers: it’s open, and our anticipation makes the ground
bloom. I plan to be like the water. It swirls into a whorl
and then becomes a froth and the eye expands, looking
into the sky and becomes a chrysanthemum as an expression,
as a duct, but as lush as a garden of eyelashes.
Lynn Finger’s (she/her/hers) works have appeared in 8Poems, Book of Matches, Fairy Piece, Drunk Monkeys, and ONE ART: a journal of poetry. Lynn also recently released a poetry chapbook, “The Truth of Blue Horses,” published by Alien Buddha Press. Lynn edits Harpy Hybrid Review, and her Twitter is @sweetfirefly2.