Lauren MacLean

Searing, frying, sautéing,
wiping sweat off my forehead,
crying because of onions
the things I do for a boy.
I hope he likes it.
The doorbell rings.
The door opens, he stands with a bouquet in his hands.

Clouds fixed in settled explosions of amber and saffron

Clement winds tossing seaweed on the toasted flaxen sand 

To L.M.

It's out of our control

And so we'll sit and watch

As a despicable man

Takes

And takes

And takes

"Stay strong" 

"Don't give up"

"There's power in silence."