oh ella tell a story!
one like you’d done before
like those blues we sang together
as i scrubbed the hardwood floor
aged baleen bristles paved trails
microscopic scraping of yesterday’s scurf,
of dirt and dust,
shamelessly losing
to the grain.
and my hands
lathered callousness
next to cleanliness.
it was ‘round midnight
when you filtered through the stereo
a delicate violet petal
humming the California breeze.
marine rain
brooded in guttered roots,
scattered sweetly as poppy seeds.
January felt of summer.
and change merged into ease.
—Ivonne Arias is a UC Berkeley student from Santa Clarita, California.
More poetry <–
