Wisteria
At a rest stop in Washington
I find
wisteria pods
empty, curled, leather brown
strewn in grass like snakes
their skin embalmed egyptians
sucked of life, except for seeds
shaking, brittle rattles
the rain isbeating
shaking this car
pressing at highway speed
against wind
dry inside, I search for colors
seeded beneath blankets of grey
will I find you
in a rest home in Washington
brittle skin, memories lost
time sucking you away
can I hold you like the flowers I offer
colors against Room 35 grey
- Fiona Marion
