Cheryl Renaud


Dock For The Ship

We start with the perfect peal
The iris leaves a path of vanilla, its pillows sweeten
with your burden your charm drops
on the grass at my feet, dangling from my toe—
I’m showy—a glass lady’s-slipper

Your smile hooks onto my skin
It is sunlight entombed in the shadow of a leaf
pouring grace, milder, softer rue

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