Monroe, N.C., Summer 2012 for Ryan – Emily Holland
It’s hot again, humid enough
that leaves produce
their own water, translucent
pearls slide and curve around
veins and midribs. There’s
mist in the air, sparkling
mottled light. My feet crunch
on the same path we walked
years ago; the deer bones you found
now stark white, no flesh or flies
remaining after the decay. Remember
how we planted marigolds
six years ago, not realizing
they’d only last a season. Watch
how I come back each year,
new blossom in hand and lay
it to rest where the others have been.