Alba

The cottonwood was snowing



I laid the back of my head into the grass



I thought grass and I woke up with pollen on my eye



I waited for the wind to come into my hair, lift it like a pile of leaves



I waited for the white blossoms to stop around me



I waited until I heard gravel crackling on the asphalt



Walking back down the road, the shovel I dragged along left a scratch



I felt the trees around me stabbing up reaching up all up



For a second, the sky could be torn from the earth