words of love, because she had love for words

she needed to fly above the noise
of the street, the chaos of the house
no one was awake- she decided to make
potpourri from dried rose petals, lemons,
bruised apples, cinnamon sticks, & ginger

books sprawled on the coffee table
resting quietly--were still annoyed;
she ignored them, as the mixing & tossing
kept her mind from exhaustion---
whose grey matter splattered from beer,
bar tunes, and too many re-fried beans-

back to the potpouri pandemonium:
no pressure, no one's warm breath
on a ballerina neck currying favors,
no spicy flavors--she was going
citrus & savory for a change-

the change suited her best profile
pantomiming a smile,
and deep flight in the rough
edges of the darkest night.......
she surrendered--calmness settled, &
then--dawn fell on the land

~kate lamberg (c) '18