Act II, Botanic Garden

by Mattea Gernentz

winter air saturated and

mute sky bending down,

a grey rife for sudden storm,

the map rippling damp

in my hands. a scampering flicker—

the startlement of a calico streak,

quick pawsteps over mossy stones,

a voyager frozen upon my sight.

I crouched low, beckoning her

to come, and she faltered apiece,

perched halfway between skepticism

and a rootly hunger for love

before departing swiftly.

and what could I do

but be simple and braided

with speechlessness? and 

again and again it did not rain,

though I stood with palms

outstretched, waiting.

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