Issue 14
Little Lament

for Elise

the baby fell asleep in my arms while I waited for flowers—
peonies, water-heavy roses arranged for leaving,
aster’s exhalations and inhalations, the thinness of wet leaves,

one part baby one part me
she doesn’t have any teeth
her small yawn, a bird’s whisper
crushed mint, a sigh

the mother moved about quickly snipping green leaves,
lopping off long stalks of rosemary, seeded eucalyptus
and billy balls smelling of ever, honey and yellow