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Redeemed
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Life and Living The ragged edges of this little town,
where hot tar roads are near a
melting point
and sugar ants claim their abode,
celebrates springtime.
Southern accents and hospitality
are the norm.
The sound of a leaf blowing is like
an earthquake in this forsaken place.
My neighbor is always sweaty and
pregnant this time of year.
For her, no year is different from
the last, or the next.
But in my world, behind locked gates,
there are pears, and lotus, and a
water ballet within the confines of
a japanese garden,
where imaginary sea horses bounce
on twinkling waves.
I am redeemed by my self-portrait
of words.
