Soft as a Claude painting, the yellow sky tonight— trees in the parking lot still thick, though the air, yes, has an edge, the honey was solid in the jarwhen I opened it this morning, found a single ant frozen in the dunes, stunned by sweetness.Can you really die of sweetness? Hardto say yes, though …
There was a black reflecting pool in the center of the garden. Guarding it, a pair of lion statues at the top of the steps, looking down.Pink azaleas gone frothy by the pool’s edge, then tiers of boxwood, pines— I know because of the photographs, my attempts to take.Something in the water let it be …