Lisa Sultani
—
The Harvest
My daughter’s ribbon has come loose from her braid
I noticed it while in the garden, digging for a sentence I had sown there
Before the house was our blessing and liability.
My words unearthed, I replace them with her blue ribbon
The part of me that wishes for a legacy hopes it is not biodegradable.
The ground is smoothed again; I guide my hand to my mouth
Placing the sentence inside and then chew slowly
I must not share it. There will never be a good time.
Lisa Sultani is a poet with an unrelated day job, residing in an
excessively humid region of the United States. Her work has been published
in Borderless, Doubly Mad and The Talon Review, among others.
* Poems are intended to be read on larger screens. Mobile and narrow browser windows break the original format of pieces with longer line lengths
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