by JoAnna Scandiffio

I didn’t mean to say what I said but I said it and everything
happened as destined by the weather gods.

It rained that morning. My cell phone was stolen. Who
memorizes numbers anymore? How could I know you

waited until the sun came out? Logic does not fit like a mouth

a poem should not shoo the birds off the stoop       bird crap
essential to green shoots and if all you can offer me is

breadcrumbs. I will have to think and thinking gets in the way
of rhyme. I want my roses star-shaped   my poems to loop

back and forth.

We go round and round. Spinning the weave of words kiss to
kiss butt to butt.

Quilt me a word.   I will surrender. All parts of the whole
for one small syllable.   Silly as it seems.   Make believe

We are elastic. Rubbermaid.

Copyright 2015, JoAnna Scandiffio

JoAnna Scandiffio is a poet, educator and gemologist living in San Francisco.  Her poems have appeared in Sugared Water, Mixitini Matrix, Naugatuck River Review  and ellipsis…literature & art. JoAnna was a finalist for a 2013 Anna Davidson Rosenberg Poetry Award.

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