5″ x 7″ Woodblock print on Somerset paper
with Graphic Chemical bone black ink, then
hand colored with acrylic paint.

Her soiled satin pumps are out of place,

transparent images in window glass.

She moves along the rain-washed concrete walk

and gently twirls her single gillyflower.

She’s Rosalind. Carnations are for other

days and times. The paper banners screaming,


the clothes; the jewelry carefully arranged

on hairless, alabaster mannequins;

the New York style deli: neon, pink

and purple spelling intermittently

PASTRAMI; Canon’s auto-everything;

Danielle Steele; all are disregarded as

she smells her flower absent-mindedly

and softly uses it to stroke her neck.

Coffeehouse Poets Quarterly

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