Poem: Rosemary by Tyler Lowery

Branch, Rosemary, Blossom, Bloom, Spices, Blue


it’s foolish to think
I could siphon
a single line
from these paint splattered street
Cormac set Suttree upon-

the best I’ll managed 
is a road map to points
I’ve dreamt of
through glasses tinted
by some approximation
of a recycled originality
that might one day save me-

the tilt of flagstones
planted on legacy grounds
well documented,
staring at art I’ll never hope to 
all part of the fabrications
no one will step forward
to verify-

I’ll circle back 
a third time before
the night’s over,
rub a sprig of rosemary
between my fingers
and dream of home,
a comfortable chair beside
a fire I can stare into,
some distant kettle warming
the broth I’ll use
to wash 
all of these dreams away,
clean and undisturbed

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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