William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Good Fortune

A parsley leaf survived the wash. Soap, hot, cold. Spin, rinse, spin. Scent, fresh, green. As if these were little things.

September 17, 2019

Good Fortune

You say this morning you will write a mountain range;

and then, when evening comes,

a ladybug crawls across your blank white page.

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Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces

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