Issue 19 | Summer 2017

Garden of Choices

It all comes down
to my friend telling me
he’s an empty basket.
Why not fill it, I ask,
with the dead of night,
the wet light of morning,
or maybe a sigh?

Next, a layer of sound—
the bark of an unseen dog,
song the cricket hauls
to my porch to drown out
the tyranny of thunder,
and the murmur of wildflowers
as frost hovers.

Then you could weave
across the basket handle
the hiss of a sling shot stone
speeding past your ear,
the shiver from its closeness
and the splendor of a spark
as stone strikes stone.


Filed under: Poetry

Mary Sesso is a retired nurse who volunteers at the National Children’s Center where she sits on the Human Rights Committee. She’s a member of the Writer’s Center in Bethesda, Maryland, and is active in three workshops. Her most recent work appeared (or will appear) in Passager, Third Wednesday, and Comstock Review. Her chapbook, published by Finishing Line Press, will appear later this year.