Today's poem is by Angela Ball

Fool's Grapes
       

Anna Akhmatova lived, for a time, with an ex-husband
and his formerly former wife. Penury
gathers its family.

A highway: a motorcyclist's body baffling the wind; an example
of how to prevent wants.

Your fellow being: a giant stump unearthed; its roots
curve upward, tusks.

Wisteria should be called "fool's grapes,"
the way it clusters, lush and hungry.

You join the fresh heat caught in a street's
shoulder blades; form an offhand rapport

with a glowing sign. A black book fills
the motel drawer. Out by the highway,

brush shows as faint purple. The contrast between
gold-ish new leaves and the dusk

of scotch pines says YES NO YES NO
YES.

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Copyright © 2024 Angela Ball All rights reserved
from Valley Voices
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission