On the Sesquicentennial of the
the desert cucumber
in the span of eighty years, the saguaro cactus,
sensing imbalance, can begin to grow a single
arm. while seas sink, their floors creeping up,
the air grows dry as if from a bathroom door
left open after a century-long shower. what will
last? i have grown arms in much less space.
i insist too much on grand declarations.
the blue blue of sky cleanses even the mold
of canyons. spiny and full of thorns, love
is a thing of myth, like a desert cucumber.
who are you when you stand straight and arm-
love by the river in springtime is a
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Charlotte Perkins Gilman Poems
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