Ode to the Valentine Apartment
Before the bedbugs descended
In clean blue walls,
watery hiss of passing traffic:
I smell your ocean waves.
Seedling No. 2
Saturday morning, Union Hill
A sweet smell bends to the street
reverentially to kiss me
in the cornsilk morning
Seedling No. 3
After a panic attack
You writhe and snap like a loose garden
hose until, dodging lashes, I hop
to your valve to shut you down.
You are quiet. Still. I gather
you into my arms. Cradling
your mercurial curves, I wrap myself inside.