elizabeth odders-white

A four-foot mansion.

Corduroy. Macrame. Shag.

Grandpa's skills amaze.

Our little Rosebud

pops and pokes and huffs her way

into timid hearts.

Vacant guitar case,

Left while blowing out of town.

Emptiness spills out.

Red, sticky sugar.

Hung for love of hummingbirds,

Shared for love of me.

A mother’s children,

Held like petals by a stem,

Once released, float free.

Technicolor world

Once swam in sepia. Now

Songs spring from whispers.