a descent into poetry insanity |
| I remember when the world began to blossom, like a rose unfurling petals out of the remnants of the Soviet Union to sprout old countries long hidden, long silent, long forgotten. my sister left, then, for distant places where letters made different sounds, and when she came back, she brought a new brother. six months. he sang with us and weeded our garden and ate our food and laughed with our father and honored our mother until he left again for home in a distant country where ancient cities echo their lonely history to the dust, and he stepped into the beginnings of his own garden— so far away. line count: 27 Author's Note ▶︎ |