By Sarah Ann Winn
I fail commas - always missing one
in a string of many, forgetting
to pause, running on, grouping
together things which do not belong
like the yellow white and red umbrella
I forget that is I forgot that is I left it
somewhere, and also I can’t remember
what colors exactly the flowers inside
its panels were, but among my many
odd memories are other flowers I cannot
place, which glow like yellow highlighter
over one word in my mind - azalea.
If we sit together in the wild spring night,
I’m probably going to later misattribute
something you say to someone famous,
Eleanor Roosevelt, probably. I love her, too.
I may even leave off half sentence,
rudely rapt, interrupt myself, say only Look, look!
Sarah Ann Winn lives in Virginia. Her poems have appeared or will appear in Hobart (online), Massachusetts Review, Nashville Review, Quarterly West, and RHINO, among others. Her chapbook, Portage, was released by Sundress Publications in February 2015. Porkbelly will be publishing her microchap, Haunting the Last House on Holland Island, Fallen into the Bay, in 2016."Visit her at http://bluebirdwords.com or follow her @blueaisling on Twitter.