Vol. 1, no. 6, December 8, 2013
Edited by Kirk Ramdath
by Angelo Ramirez
Her eyes shook the out-of-focus filter of morning
and with microsecond glances
gathered sliding hues of indigo
to see the silent symphony.
A gathering of flowers. Hybrids. Rare.
All in thoughtful groupings and arrangements.
Yesterday, she committed their layouts to memory,
discarding paper cards to guess the sender.
A tropical blend masked by a manufactured smell.
must’ve been her boss
A solitary but large white orchid in a smooth crystal vase.
a dear friend
The week-old bouquet bowl downstairs, now etched with peanut butter
her favorite and only niece
she squints and peeks through the tiny hole between her clasped hands
“Amazonia. Kaleidoscope collage. Circum..fe..re..”
The doctor will be in the afternoon. Her mind slithers to sleep.
It desperately wants to write poetry but conjured lines slip away.
Angelo Ramirez is a gentleman and a scholar, depending on who is willing to
confirm this. He enjoys Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, cafe wandering, and people
watching. Sometimes he writes poems. Check his work out at mungryghost.
com or connect with him on twitter @mungryghost.
Support this magazine.