Agatha Abernathy May Polish A Stone

maybe next week the chickpeas will be hummus
and Agatha Abernathy may polish a river stone
all afternoon-
in a hammock, next to lemonade
and a tiny hornet’s nest
trying to get big enough
to pest.

as she swings, maybe. in a hammock.

II

a clump of love tucked into her drumming heart-
fiends for a reason to stop loving him.
But Love barks at a bitch.
and now, right now… Agatha unfurls regardless.
with too many jewels in her armory
and all the fetching of discontent
like the spoils of a poet
clapping cymbals
to evoke
a new quiet.

III

To live with.