195 lede

The Lesson. +3 more, by Vasiliki Albedo

It’s an August evening in the garden  / and I’m reading about nyctinasty,  / why some flowers close their petals  / for the night, when the lantern I nailed  / in place this afternoon starts to tremble  / / in an irreverent breeze, and I remember  / years ago, waiting for the bus to school,  / when a rusty nail jutting out  / of a discarded plank, caught my eye.  / I don’t know what impelled me then  / / to stab my foot on it, hard as I could.
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