Secret Ingredients
Panic
small talk in their booth
a dinner plate shatters and
she’s back in Iraq
–
turning winds
a yearling doe
prepares to bolt
Aglow
luminous, rising
from below an ebony lake
in her hand, a sword
–
sunlit hillsides
shadows rolling
slowly to the shore
Water
after images
through the rain streaked windowpanes
impending thunder
–
mountain stream
a whisper of
quiet nonsense
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