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Planting Water

Sometimes, after the dust
settles, after the lane warms
you in deepness of soil, I’ll
dress your chestnut hair
with poor sails of weathered
plumes, clad in unpinned
Canterbury bells. Daughter,
what shall stitch wings to
caterpillars, drink a flower’s
thirst like a beggar holding
forth an empty cup? So, hush
little darling, we shall plant
water, sift stones with the
patience of still river, spade
easy where goblin worms sally
through, until the quiet swell
of fireflies flicker red into your
infant hands of need, weighing,
hazed with stars I urge you name.

 

Lana Bella is the author of three chapbooks: Under My DarkAdagio, and Dear Suki: Letters. She has had poetry and fiction featured with over 390 journals, including Acentos Review, Comstock Review, and Notre Dame Review. Lana resides in the US and the coastal town of Nha Trang, Vietnam, where she is a mom of two far-too-clever frolicsome imps. Find her on Facebook.

 

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