love is feeble

an old lady, mother
of two dead dogs, long
past grief made gardens,
soil shifted shawls for
blooms. brightness blinded off
the violence of her vigorous
troweling. 


pink glove shaded squint,
a momentary peak through parted
blinds, the scene sublime as bisect
life wriggles in the dirt, and
soft sirens echo the sorrow of a
separated soul.