My Friend the Zucchini

It’s that time of year
when you begin to ask questions
of your zucchini
Gently and with some curiosity
prodding around the edges
of its existence in your life
and in your garden where
it has established itself
like a good acquaintance
who has come from Italy
bearing panettone but
talks a little too much
about the financial crisis
who you knew was coming after
all.
You snap its arm off
and lug three more in
wondering who to phone
for assistance.

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Heart Throb

There will be silences
when the only sound is
of soles scraping leaves
on wet cement sidewalks.
You’ll breathe through your nose
and swallow thick half-words
that hang up in your throat
while scanning the grey sky for
texture to alight an idea on.
The bonds between flex and crackle
unsure of their command to grow or dissolve
in those quiet moments.