to the cemetery. We were laughing indeed,
laughing deep inside our pillow slips. The sky
was preposterous and just
and times to not forget—it was a movie, one of those
we pick up on the way there or back and pictures freeze,
my magnolia of many lily winters.
our scattering recitals, not much to do with the clouds.
Just taste them once, you’ll see how bitter
future snow can be. Undress the news–I know
it takes longer and longer to. Are we falling for it? The old
and the very young are not at all at risk. There is hardly any heat.
for us to see, though we were captured and often held
still. Stop-motioned. My magnolia of many winters and I,
laughing, all the way to the cemetery.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aleksandra Lane lives in Wellington. Her poetry has been published in online and print journals in NZ and Australia, as well as two poetry collections in Serbia. She completed her MA in Creative Writing at the IIML in 2010 and was awarded the Biggs Poetry Prize for her portfolio.