They bought pink blossoms in season
and left them untouched after the
Foreclosure, unwilling to wilt in
an empty home.
In memoriam they weep to radiology (or, harmful static)
sunshine on a pair of broken knees
shadow from the dim lamp
black grease on the grill
fascinated eyes on the fountain
tangerines fermented in cold juice
While filling the vase with the slowest of poisons, the wind outside
shakes the buffalo grass.
Jojo Rita is a creative writing major in high school, and has a strong desire to engage with the paradigms surrounding her through writing and conversation. Poetry is a pleasure in her life because she finds it always reflects passing truths, and one can learn from these small moments. Peripatetic poetry is her strong suit – though that term arguably is an umbrella for nonsense. She likes nonsense, and the clarity that it breeds.