He has by heart the gondolas of Venice, can summon a teakwood dhow.

All my nights are like papyrus, drenched in tears, a wash of disobedience staining my blank ease.

A poem by Jessica Powers from The Second “America” Book of Verse, a collection of the best of America poetry, 1930 to 1955.

I request a touch of the oils from a stand-in

It wanted to turn, the stern rocking around to the front, taking the place of the bow, the bow to the stern, port to starboard

The orchid book says to stop watering right before you think it’s enough, which doesn’t help much