Dreaming of Vermont Syrup

I wrote on a page for fourteen minutes
but the page was so much a sponge
that the ink vanished into the fibers
and everything I said about September
vanished from my hand
and from my mind
as if September never existed
or was just a dull stain on the carpet
of something that spilled
several years ago.

But the page smelled wet,
so I held it above a dry spot in my yard
not far from the lilac bush
and squeezed the page like a sodden towel
and most of September
wrung out of the page
to form a puddle on the ground
that quickly soaked in.

The next morning my lilac bush
had red and gold maple leaves
and I could taste football
in the scent of its multi-colored blooms.

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Kenneth P. Gurney lives in Albuquerque, NM, USA with his beloved Dianne. He emcees the Adobe Walls open mic at Page One Books and is the founding editor of the Adobe Walls anthology of NM poets. His latest collection of poems is Curvature of a Fluid Spine. To learn more visit kpgurney.me.