beneath the apple blossoms

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"Apple Blossoms 2" by Arshile Gorky
Public Domain

and this time you slipped 
as a raindrop 
through the clouds of my forgetfulness 
to fall 
like the thought of a forming leaf 
wearing that dress 
i remember 
and laughing 
at the perfection of a moment 
that was gone 
before it could be described 
and i saw you 
stepping softly 
barefoot 
beneath the apple blossoms 
and pregnant 
with the tender impossibilities 
of this new spring 
reaching out 
with tendrils of anticipation 
toward an unknown father 
but troubled by the wildness 
of the seed 
imbedded in your womb 
and the memory of chaos 
that lies within your ancient bones

Greg Alston is a gardener, cook, father and some other things, too.

Boulder Weekly accepts poetry and flash fiction submissions at 450 words/35 lines or fewer and accompanied by one-sentence bio of the author. Send to poetry@boulderweekly.com