Floating on hypnotics,
she felt her world narrow
to dandelion, allowed
the wailing chair beside her
drip dry and brown.
He took her hand and
whispered – It’s going to be
noisy a little while,
and left to mow the lawn.
I love the smell of cut grass,
she replied to God.
Light as feathered seed,
she opened a hand over
the meadow of a thigh,
softly, cast off her room.