Tantrum Barb

There on the threshold below to the garden

In front of the rest of the city that ends at the

Banks of the river and stretches back to me and

Holds a square patch of backyard where I'm looking at

Bunches of children, some fixed at their parents,

Take colorful strings draped cross branches of lemon and

Orange emit from the ends of it seem like

A galaxy cupped in a leafy red canopy



(And I feel the breezes blow, pushing storms on my arms,

I'm out on the tips of spires, you can stare into the sea)