The Salad

Engorge the salad.

Sleepy afternoon

dies and is reborn

in the brief sunset.

Burst the tomato

whole in my mouth.

Mellifluous melodies,

carnival joy of purity

like laughter of infants.

Crack open carrots;

I am brought home.

Bath of the song;

our sink is full.

And eyeing apples.

Soup's next.


West Vancouver