by Sørina Higgins

my overcoat is a pelican
my umbrella is a stork
the flowers I plant have
grown down into the soil
their roots are enjoying the sun
and everything I have to say
pours back inside my lungs.

my garden is a laundry bin
my kitchen a game of chess
the dishes I feed you were
gleaned from a railroad
a transcontinental surprise
and every last sip I slip down my gorge
tastes like checkmate at sunrise.

my tires are elephant's knee-bones
my speakers house bumble wasps
when I taste between the sheets, feet
first through the sandwich of dark
nothing is missing its flavor and wine
of you and of you and of you
oak-gentle, gray-pillar, wind-eye.

Sørina Higgins is an adjunct English instructor at Lehigh Carbon Community College, an Inklings scholar specializing in Charles Williams, and a published poet. 'Ordinary' is from her latest collection, Caduceus.

Posted with permission.

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