Browsing Category Art and Photography

sonnet during drought

— the Tibetan landlady and i ought to concede our brown fingers. she can’t grow tomato plants, hydrangea; i, no hope for pothos, Pittsburgh ivy, aloe; basil leaves, see-through. her son babbles all summer in alphabets; barely does it rain. i recall figs and vegetables always grew in my grandfather’s backyard; and berries sprawled toward roses, apples in my father’s own. i pass a house…

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