Tea Olive

and tarragon

By Harper Lewis Published 5 months ago • 1 min read

what I wouldn’t give in December

or January

for a nose full of tarragon and tea olive—

the honeysuckle can wait

with mimosas and magnolias;

otherwise, it’s just a loose gas cap

bouncing across the slow lane of I-85.

I’ll keep living these unfettered dreams,

winding them around my finger,

making my own spool of world.

I may sever a section of it for you to keep in your wallet,

next to that thread from the sweater

your hands explored the contents of

one day while the sky snowed.

But only if you promise

never to tie a knot.

Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.

Intertextuality is my passion.

Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.

My words are mine, not a robot’s.

MA English literature, CofC

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