Parading

Sometimes I’d smell supper. Neighbors stopped

Always know sometimes it’s me

your irreversible time is that river

Maybe this is what Lorca meant

the flowers burst in

Three paces in the moonlight’s glow I stand,

I remember sounds like that from my childhood,

Where the old trees reign with their forward dark

They know the future,

In the temper and the tantrum, in the well-kept arboretum