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  • Helena Harrington


By Helena Harrington

Yes -

By the greenhouse it was, when we

Met. Forms through the dust-tinted filter,

Distorted, a meadow-mirror.

In mere minutes

Your hair becomes armfuls

Of sunflower showers, we gather them in

Pools. Cascading star-lilies,

The rich scent paints my lashes.

Blackbirds, drunk, teeter on tree-limbs,

Fully gorged by rich nectar.

The thick-sprouting rushes glint as

We whirl by the hiccupping brook in its

Delight. Who is the fastest?

Who is the tallest? I swear you are

Taller than the last time.

Drained, eyes closed, we slowly melt

Before the protective warmth of

The midday glow. Months stretched on for


Absence makes the heart grow fonder,

It is said.

Tadpole crusted thin on the film;

The sun makes the tarmac-spittle


Will you take



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