Three poems by Colin Dardis

  Cinnabar Going to rinse the saucepan, I spy a rose petal in the sink: bent purple, withered in this high-seventies weather, most unseasonable of seasons. Somehow circumvented angles of back yard, oil tank and washing-line, through kitchen window, onto an irregular place of rest. Leaning in, I find its being: a red cabbage leaf from last night’s salad, a beauty non-transferable, utterly throwaway.   … Continue reading Three poems by Colin Dardis