Poetry | May 16, 2022
5 Poems
Sonia Feldman
Counterweight
In the fall, the garden
folds in on itself—grand
stalk of kale on the ground
like a wilted chandelier,
still green tomatoes
that missed their chance
at red and tomatillo lanterns
scattered in the turned-up
soil. I can smell the earth
rolling over in her bedclothes.
I can see a crowd of brown flies
dancing vertically
in the four o’clock light.
I find myself courting loss
as a counterweight
to the raucous good
fortune of being alive
and in possession
of the ones that I love.
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