Tag Archives: Laura Lee Washburn

Love’s Shape

I. Dwarf Silk black panties cover his stem of purple azaleas, his yellow hummer beak. He comes at me down this street. Neighbor’s children in angel wings don’t visit my hedged yard. Maybe the white sheet hung in the pine … Continue reading

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An Affair

            after the filmmaker Philip Kaufman In the white kitchen one woman slides a thin bread into his mouth. She took the loaf from the oven, a white towel wrapped around her hand. The same cotton towel hangs on the oven … Continue reading

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Evening

Garlic smell drifts through the house; the smell is like teenagers practicing mother and father on the brown dusted ground. I am cooking onions. I am happy about everything domestic, boiling pasta, reading newspapers, vacuuming the apartment’s matted carpet. I … Continue reading

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